


Recapturing Life

by scrunchycolfer



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Depression, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, kurt_big_bang_fall_2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 100,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrunchycolfer/pseuds/scrunchycolfer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is a little lost in his mundane life. The last thing he expects to come across on his walk home is a lone windblown figure perched on the wrong side of the railing on the edge of the bridge, poised and ready to jump.</p><p>Kurt rushes to save him. With his arms wrapped around the waist of this total stranger, failing over and over to talk him down reasonably, he makes a desperate gamble. The man’s 25th birthday approaches, and Kurt bets that before then, he can prove that life is worth living.</p><p>So against the ticking of the clock, the two strangers embark on wild adventures, trying to find the best parts of being alive. Slowly, Kurt thinks that it might be working, and this man might be falling in love with his life again. But is that all that’s happening?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by a novel called “How to Fall in Love”. When I first read it, I was drawn to the idea of how perfectly the plot line would work as a Klaine fic. And since there were several aspects to the story that I really didn't like (including some misogyny and a not entirely healthy relationship) I decided to try my hand at creating a new version of it, all centered around Kurt. This insanely long story follows along the same plot line, but I've rewritten it to become my own thing. 
> 
> I want to reiterate the major warnings for depression and suicide throughout this fic. Take care of yourselves and please don't read if this is going to trigger or upset you.
> 
> (Last of all, for any Adam fans, I want to warn that this story doesn't exactly paint him in the best light. He had to behave the way he does for the sake of story line.)
> 
> Of course, as a part of the Big Bang, I was paired with a wonderful artist. Emily luvtheheaven did such an amazing job with creating a video for me, and that can be found right here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvDGCEQvBEg
> 
> I also really want to thank my beta and perfect friend Lizz deppcriss for all her help!

 

 

The first time it happened to Kurt Hummel, it was eleven p.m. on a frigid December night in Columbus, and he was wandering somewhere he had never been before. This could easily be taken as a metaphor for his emotional state at the time - In fact, that particular metaphor would have described his scattered thoughts rather accurately - but it was also literally, geographically true. He had never previously visited the abandoned housing development on the edges of the city.

That didn't change the fact that he was there now, for whatever reason, wrapping his coat a little tighter around his slender frame to avoid the chill that managed to rip through him despite the thickness and quality of the fabric. He approached the empty door frame surrounded by an almost unearthly tune; one pattered out by the wind through gaping windows, and punctuated by the flapping of materials that had never quite been tied down. Pipe work cluttered the exterior and tangles of wires seemed to spring from nowhere like bedraggled nests of colored plastic and exposed copper. Scraps of wood and metal littered the floor so that it could almost be believed that the builders would return any moment to whisk back to action and finish their project.

The builders would never return though. The bare boards would stay unpainted; the edges would remain sharp and unaltered. The mess of house parts would never be neatly tucked away behind off-white walls to reveal a proper living space beneath the confused scramble. It was all perfectly ghostly.

Kurt climbed past the torn plastic that still hugged the bottom of the frame and disappeared inside the naked building.

…

Forty-five minutes later, he was outside again, trembling, waiting for the police.

When he'd dialled 911, they had told him it would be no time at all, but every second was feeling more like a minute now. In the darkness, surrounded by shadows and full of far too much leftover adrenaline, he tried to gather his thoughts. But he was frayed. It was impossible to process everything he had just experienced.

The moment the sounds of sirens reached him, he was instantly pushing off the wall and standing out on the footpath, eyes trained ahead. The ambulance rounded the corner, a plain-clothes police car with lopsided lights following close behind. In unison, they pulled to a stop right in front of him. Kurt felt a little unsure, a little uneasy. He'd never been in this situation before. He didn't know what to do.

Out of the car leapt a woman, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail, her navy uniform tailored unusually well, and the dark circles under her eyes expertly concealed. Kurt shifted a little at the sight of her, trying to decide if he should speak first. She was certainly intimidating. Her easy elegance and vague air of aloof calm were enough to make anyone want to keep their distance. But although her general appearance may have been that of a Hollywood actress playing at the role of a cop, she was still a thirty-five year old woman with so much seriousness in her face, she somehow managed to highlight the gravity of the situation. Kurt felt a little more at ease the moment she was on the street beside him.

“Detective Lopez,” She introduced herself, giving him a cursory glance, a flicker up and down his body. “I assume you're Kurt Hummel? Get in the car. Passenger side is open. Let my ambulance bitches past and don't get in my way.”

Kurt did as she said. Even if he usually might have stood his ground until she explained things properly, he was far too thrown off to even open his mouth in protest.

And he was glad to be out of the way. The world outside the condensated car was a hum of activity; a mass of fluorescent jackets, flashing lights, and loud voices. Kurt was happy to sit and watch his breath slowly fog over the windows. He wasn't ready to even think about what had just happened.

It was another hour before Detective Lopez wrenched open the driver's side door, ordered him to put on his seat belt, and pulled out of the curb.

It was another twenty minutes more before he was seated in her office, cradling a cup of sub-par coffee, recounting the story of the man he had met earlier that night, and trying not to cry.

He started at the beginning, told her how he had come across the grown adult weeping brokenly somewhere inside the abandoned building site, and then, after a long sip of coffee and a deep breath, told her what they had said to one another.

Dave Karofsky and his family were one of fifty families who had been promised housing in the half-finished apartment complex. Before the whole place went under and the funding ran dry. Before the families' threads of hope were cut and they lost the investments they'd too readily placed.

In fact, the room where Kurt found him in the middle of the night was the exact room in which he'd expected to finally have a home.

When he finally focused and started to talk, Dave had mostly spoken of money (and his sudden unexpected lack of it), of his children (who would need to go to college soon), of his job (which he had recently lost), and of his wife (whom he felt more distanced from as each day went by).

Kurt relayed their entire conversation to Detective Lopez and the flashing red light of the hand-held recorder on her desk. The older woman sat tipped back in her chair and regarded him through thick-lashed eyes. She nodded occasionally, but otherwise made no move toward comforting him. Kurt actually found this somewhat helpful. It at least left him able to blink back the tears in his eyes and keep his voice from breaking more than it had to. It made it easier to actually talk about everything without getting overwhelmed by his own emotional response.

The specifics of the whole exchange were already made murky by the shock of the violent response that had followed. Kurt found that the sentences jammed up on his tongue and refused to flow into coherent sentences. It didn't exactly help that his mind jumped disjointedly between what he recalled saying, and what he now understood as the words he should have used instead.

You see, when Kurt Hummel walked in on Dave Karofsky in that shabby, hopeless room, the distraught stranger had been holding a gun.

Dave seemed less surprised by the appearance of another human being than Kurt had been. He seemed to assume that Kurt was someone sent there by the police, someone intended to talk him down gently, to make him lay down the gun he was lining up to his own head. He seemed to assume that someone would already have noticed his absence and perhaps even called for help.

Kurt never told him anything to the contrary. Although, that wasn't exactly surprising, given the involvement of the gun, and the unpredictable nature of the stranger whose face was already damp with tears. He hadn't wanted to risk saying a single thing wrong.

Somehow, after what seemed like a very long minute, the good manners that are drilled into even the youngest children kicked in. They introduced themselves, awkwardly, disjointedly. Theyfollowed familiar words which suddenly rang out so wrong with that weapon between them, hanging loosely now from Dave's fingertips.

“ _I- I'm Kurt Hummel.”_

“ _Dave. Dave Karofsky.”_

“ _It's nice to meet you.”_

Kurt had never felt more fake than at that moment. Although, truthfully, Dave hadn't seemed to care. He had simply stared, spoken when it was his turn, shared even more when Kurt began to prompt him.

It hadn't taken Kurt more than a few minutes of conversation to really understand what the other man was trying to say; why he had come out here alone in the middle of the night with a gun.

It was clear that the mess of his life was too much for him. He wanted to die.

When Dave had finished spilling every problem into the drab room, choking on them like they hurt all the way out of his mouth, Kurt tried to calm him down. He tried so hard to sooth. He grasped onto parts of their stilted interactions, trying to find something, _anything_ to motivate Dave into realizing that what he was about to do was a huge mistake.

They talked about his kids. The lights in the darkness. The angels that made everything seem even a little more bearable.

Dave put the gun down.

Kurt didn't really remember exactly what words made it happen. But he did remember what had happened in the moments after. As soon as the gun was down, Kurt had asked Dave if he could call for more help, responded to the nod with desperate relief, fumbled for his phone, shakily dialled 911, kept one eye on the man who was still sitting so close to that black hole of cold metal.

It was after he hung up the phone, after he had finished repeating frantic “ _thank you”_ s to the woman on the other end, after he had turned back to Dave, that everything changed again.

It was all a flash of confusion now. Kurt could barely remember a single detail. He could barely locate the tipping point, the trigger and release that had tumbled from his own lips. It was something he said. _Something_ he'd said in that moment. Damn it, what had he said?

Something he should have left unsaid.

Because Dave's eyes flickered back down to that gun. His fingers twitched.

The need to do _something_ thrilled through Kurt's veins. He almost leapt forward.

But it was too late.

Dave picked up the gun. He held it to his head.

A bullet ripped from the barrel.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Sometimes, when a person experiences something really jarring, it makes them want to stop pretending. It makes them want to open their eyes, to shake off the parts of their life that didn't fit before, to understand the meaning behind the world around them, the intent behind its people. Everything in the ordinary routine of an ordinary day suddenly becomes a little too ordered, a little too neat, a little too _fake_.

When Kurt Hummel stumbled upon Dave Karofsky and watched him attempt suicide, unable to save him, he experienced a similar feeling.

The things he used to take for granted, like the warmth of his apartment, his tidy bank balance, the regular meaningless calls from his father, now shone with a new vitality. Whenever he introduced himself to someone new, or heard a passing comment about a child who was soon to leave for college, he felt a dull thud in his chest.

Yes, the events of that night had certainly made Kurt re-examine the intricacies of his life.

But sometimes, it isn't just the dull day to day routine that someone might become startlingly aware of. Sometimes these jarring experiences shed light on bigger things. Like relationships.

That's what happened to Kurt Hummel.

When a person finds himself jealous of other people breaking up, they should probably work out that their own relationship is in trouble. For months before the incident, Kurt had been experiencing a sort of vague wistfulness for life outside of his boyfriend, Adam. He'd felt that slightly claustrophobic pressing sense that he wasn't where he wanted to be. But he'd never taken the time to pinpoint the emotion until _after_ he left Detective Lopez's office on that shocking night.

Kurt drove around alone for a long time by himself, simply mulling things over. He really did make sure he had considered every angle he could, re-evaluating all of his motivations and past emotions. He didn't want to be rash with such a huge decision.

But in the end, there was only one obvious solution that seemed fair to both of them. Kurt went straight back to their shared apartment, told his boyfriend everything as honestly as possible, and ended things between them.

As soon as it was over, he knew the whole relationship had never been right in the first place. It had been one of those things that he just held onto because he was so used to holding onto it. But it hadn't been fair on either of them to string it along for so long. It especially wouldn't have been fair for Kurt to have prolonged it for another moment after realising it wasn't working.

His best friend, Rachel, was utterly convinced that the break-up was some sort of post-traumatic stress reaction to everything he had seen that night. He informed her that it had been stewing for a long time, but he may as well have told her once again that he wasn't allowing her to dress her own children in animal sweaters. Either way, she wouldn't have understood. Rachel wasn't always particularly good at letting go of an idea once it had occurred to her. He tried to ignore the not-so-subtle cards she left lying around wherever he might see them, advertising counselling services.

His brother had been baffled as well, but he managed to save forming any actual opinion until he saw how Kurt was affected by the change. He seemed happy for him; though these things were always hard to decipher with Finn. The man tended to ask a lot of confusing questions whether he approved of Kurt's choices or not. Kurt did his best to explain that the things he hadseen that night and his decision to break up with Adam weren't related in the way that Rachel was assuming, but he wasn't sure how much of it his brother took in. At least Finn didn't seem to be judging him for his choices.

Most of his other friends clearly had similar opinions to Rachel. They were less vocal though, less obvious about it. The offers for coffee meet-ups, nights out drinking, and movie marathons increased. He could see them subtly trying to take care of him, to make sure he wasn't about to shatter. Kurt wasn't entirely sure how they all got the impression that he was so delicate, but he let them continue. It wasn't really doing him any harm, despite being a little frustrating. He was used to people assuming he was more fragile than he actually was.

The most surprising reaction he got to the break up was, well, his boyfriend's reaction.

Adam had been understanding and supportive during Kurt's first round of tears. He was patient about being woken in the middle of the night and dragged away to sit down at the dining table. He accepted a cup of tea while Kurt sipped his own coffee, tilting his head to one side and waiting for an explanation. He was calming and sweet as the sobbing started and the story came out.

He even held Kurt's hands across the table and nodded along as he hesitantly told Adam that the whole experience had got him thinking - thinking about _them -_ and made him realize that they weren't working as a couple anymore.

“You're okay with this?” Kurt asked when that calming smile didn't fall from Adam's face.

“Of course I am, Kurt. None of this is your fault. You just get some rest and we'll talk about it in the morning.”

Like Rachel, Adam seemed to think his decision was just a ripple effect springing from what he had already started calling “the Dave Karofsky experience”. It sort of made sense, seeing as Kurt had practically come straight from the police station to start the conversation. It did _seem_ like a spur of the moment choice.

Despite this, Kurt took his reassurances to mean that they would arrange to part ways the next day. He was under the impression that his boyfriend understood exactly what he meant, possibly even agreed with him, had maybe been experiencing the same desire to be apart from each other lately, and would certainly be respectful of his decision to discontinue the relationship.

As it turned out, Adam really meant that he was sure Kurt would change his mind as soon as he woke up.

Things became a little more real for him the next day, when he actually found his boyfriend removing his clothes from the closet of their joint apartment. He stood there in the doorway for a long time as it dawned on him that this was happening; that Kurt was _serious_ about breaking up.

Adam was creative with his insults.

Kurt understood his anger though (even if he didn't quite understand the personality transplant that had occurred so suddenly). He understood Rachel's confusion. He understood why every single one of his friends _didn't_ understand.

Understanding it didn't make it any easier to cope with though. Kurt had needed support through that turmoil. Luckily, his constant rock in hard times was right by his side from the very beginning. His father completely accepted his side of the story. He sat down with Kurt and listened to everything he had to say about the night he met Dave Karofsky and the decisions he had made afterward.

When Kurt started crying, Burt Hummel held out his arms and cradled him like he was a little boy again. He stroked his hair back and reminded him that it was okay to be confused. It was okay to suddenly realize that your life wasn't what you'd always hoped it would be. He promised that he would support Kurt however he could while he tried to work things out.

…

Three months later, Kurt's life was looking a little bit better. He was still missing something that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but at least he wasn't as stuck as before. He lived in the spare apartment Carole had inherited from her relatives and never got around to selling. He dealt with his smothering friends (even Rachel). He saw his family more regularly (even Rachel). He put all his effort into his job (and oh god, as much as he loved Rachel, it was a relief to have at least one place where she wasn't constantly poking her nose in).

Ever since that night when his life had changed, he felt like he was perched on the edge of something big, and he was getting rather desperate to take off.

It was a sunny Friday morning in Columbus, and Kurt sat in his office, flicking listlessly through a series of concept sketches on his tablet. The promising new designer had caught his eye a few days ago, and he was allowing himself the indulgence of stalking through their online gallery.

He was in the middle of a project assigned to him by his insufferable boss. It was _supposed_ to be part of collaboration between their magazine, _Capital Style,_ and a magazine in New York. But Kurt never quite knew where any of his projects would really end up. He couldn't count the number of times that his office used the words “New York City” to try and make him excited about something that he would otherwise scorn. By now, it had ceased to mean anything to him. He just did what he was asked. At least his job wasn't totally awful. The four people who worked on his floor alongside him were friendly enough, and he had long ago given up any dreams of _actually_ working in New York, or doing _actual_ design work.

At least, that's what he continually told himself.

As he flipped through to the next picture, the door burst open and the clacking of high heels met his ears. He knew without looking up that he was about to be greeted with the return of one of his colleagues, Kitty Wilde, finally back from her long paid vacation in Paris.

He almost winced when she reached his desk and the clacking noise came to an abrupt stop. Almost.

“Kurt, I've only been gone four months. There is no way you've already had a mental breakdown, _left_ Adam, and started living in your Dad's spare apartment.” Kitty greeted him, plunking down in her seat and spinning it to face him. “I may have been encouraging you to do this for as long as I've known you, but I never thought you _actually would_! Aren't you meant to be stubborn as fuck? It's one of the things I've always admired about you. I mean, I guess that personality trait could be swapped for the willingness to listen to everything I advise, but... okay, seriously, isn't it a little early for a midlife crisis?”

“Nice to see you too, Kitty.” He deflected, still refusing to make eye-contact. “How was your holiday?”

“I'll tell you everything about it in a second. Paris is as beautiful as ever and _you_ are avoiding the real issue.” She said, perched right there beside his desk so that it was impossible for him to ignore her. Kurt sighed, very deliberately set down his tablet, and looked up.

“I like your haircut.” he told her.

“ _Kurt_.”

“ _Kitty_.”

“Kurt!”

“Yes. Fine. I left Adam and I'm staying in _Carole's_ spare apartment until I find my own place. Don't tell me it's a stupid idea because I've had enough of that from everyone else and I can't put up with you being a bitch right now.” Kurt took a deep breath. “It's your first day back and I know it's hard for you to ever stop insulting people but I like to be _nice_ when I haven't seen a person for four months.”

“You seem more upset than I expected.” Kitty observed, idly picking at her painted nails. “I told you two years ago that you were never going to settle down with Adam. You guys may have been _cute_ but you weren't exactly the most well-matched couple. I thought you'd be happy about being free.”

“Adam was a lovely guy.” Kurt told her firmly. “We were together five years. I was happy for most of that time. I would never be happy about breaking-”

“Breaking his heart?” Kitty's grin was smug.

“Breaking up with him.” He snapped.

“Okay.” Kitty considered him for a moment longer. “Good answers.”

He shot her a scornful look as she sat back in her seat again. Most likely, she was seconds away from gloating about her vacation. She took the time to gently flick her hair back over her shoulders and straighten her skirt.

“Now it's time to talk about me.”

Kurt sat back, suppressed an eye-roll, and listened.

He had never particularly _liked_ Kitty. She had been nothing short of a bitch when they'd first met. Both of them had started their new jobs on the same day, and she had been jealous from that very moment. But they had a sort of truce now. Every morning, one of them would share what they had been up to recently, and the other would give their honest opinion on every detail, offering advice that was sometimes brutal and hard to hear, but none-the-less helpful. Kurt still wasn't sure how _that_ had started, but he knew he had actually missed her during the last few months.

Kitty left him alone after only ten minutes of ranting about her vacation. Apparently she had a lot of work to catch up on and photos of Paris to put together for a possible piece in the magazine. She didn't mention Adam again.

As soon as her attention was diverted, Kurt sighed, raked a hand through his hair in a terrible habit he really had to get rid of, turned to his computer, and changed tabs on his browser.

An article titled _How to Fire an Employee (Without Hurting anyone's Feelings)_ had been sitting there, breathing down his neck, for the last few days.

He wasn't entirely sure why the task of telling the office assistant she was being let go had fallen to him. It wasn't like he had any experience with these sorts of things.

But for some reason his boss (who he hated more viciously as each day went by) decided it was necessary that, as head of their small office, he should be the one to deliver the news. She got to retreat back to her upstairs sanctuary without a single thought for how the poor girl would react. He was left trying to work out if he would actually ever be able to do this.

Their office was fairly small, but they attended a fairly large segment of the magazine, and relied on their young assistant almost constantly. Not to mention the fact that she was anabsolutely lovely person. Kurt really didn't want to let her go. But unfortunately, it wasn't exactly up to him, and the company had decided that her presence wasn't needed.

He scrolled back to the top of the page and sighed, absently highlighting the first point as he re-read it, wishing it could actually make things easier. As if a simple set of instructions could lead him down the easy path of dropping a friend from the job she actually seemed to love-

“Hey, Kurt!” Marley's voice over his shoulder startled him. “Here's your coffee.”

“Marley!” His voice was far too high-pitched and desperate. He fumbled the mouse, trying desperately to close the tab before she had a chance to read a single word of it.

“Are you oka-” Marley broke off, sounding almost choked as she did so.

Kurt froze, hand still on the mouse. It occurred to him that if he hadn't rushed to get rid of it, she may not have even noticed the title that ran in bold lettering across the top of the screen, let alone have realized that it was anything to do with her.

He braced himself and turned slowly to see her reaction.

She was flushed pink, Kurt's coffee still clutched in her hand. She had a pen tucked into her soft brown hair and notes written in blue ink on the back of her hand. He could see a smiley face beside the scrawled reminder “ _collect Kurt's coffee_ ”. Guilt clenched in his gut. Suddenly, her eyes flicked away from the screen and landed on his face.

He found his mind suddenly wiped blank of everything he'd tried to prepare for. He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he was meant to do next. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Marley's eyes were filling with tears.

“Well, I guess I just saved you a lot of trouble.” She tried to sound brave, but her lip trembled.

“Look, Marley, I-”

But Kurt couldn't find the words to comfort her. She slammed the coffee down on the bench. The lid popped off and it splashed its hot contents right onto his lap. As he hissed in pain, distracted, she stormed out of the office, pausing only to snatch up her bag from her tiny desk by the door.

“Shit.”

…

After work that day, Kurt took out his phone and dialled what was now becoming a very familiar number.

“Lopez,” the harsh voice on the other end greeted him.

“Detective Lopez,” he replied. “This is Kurt Hummel.”

He had to put a hand to his other ear to block out the sound of the office phone ringing incessantly behind him. They still hadn't worked out how they would share Marley's duties, and now, after the way he had fired her, his other three colleagues were refusing to speak to him.

“Oh, great, you.” She somehow sounded neither sarcastic nor sincere, and Kurt was surprised she even remembered him. “What do you want?”

“I've been trying to get a hold of you for two weeks now.” Kurt told her boldly, not responding well to her gruff manner. It had been a rough day, and he was not going to let anything else get to him. “I left you messages.”

“Yes, I got them. Clogged up my voicemail.” Detective Lopez sighed. “Look, you can stop panicking, okay? You're not in trouble.”

Kurt took a moment to respond, surprised. It hadn't occurred to him that he might be in trouble in the first place.

“That's not why I'm calling.” He said.

“No?” She sounded sarcastic now. “Because after a _very_ long time suffering through listening to your deceptively feminine voice, I still haven't found a single explanation as to why you were alone in the middle of an abandoned building site at eleven pm.”

Kurt was silent, thinking this over. He had managed to avoid telling everyone the reason for his visit to that particular spot, even those who had the guts to directly ask him. Kurt certainly didn't want to spill his story now. Not to this blunt woman.

“I was really calling to ask for more details about Dave Karofsky.” He pushed on quickly “I wanted to know about funeral arrangements. O-or a place where I might visit his grave. I couldn't find anything in the papers. No- no obituary. I might have missed it, but I knew _you_ would have heard something about it. Are you allowed to tell me anything?”

Kurt tried not to sound impatient or pushy, a hard feat when he was running on about half his usual caffeine intake and coming off the end of one of the worst days to approach him since the week after leaving Adam.

It was just that Dave Karofsky had left an uncomfortable lack of closure in his life. Kurt had always been a sensitive person, although he was private with his own emotions. He liked to help other people whenever he could. After going through something like this, he found it difficult to let go, difficult to stop feeling guilty.

He wanted to know how to contact the Karofsky family, so he could tell them the beautiful things Dave had said about them. He especially needed to talk to Dave's wife, the woman he had spoken of with regret in his voice; with respect and fondness, but an overwhelming guilty ache. Kurt hadn't had time to find out why. But he knew she would appreciate hearing how much her departed husband had wished he could have been enough for her.

And Kurt wanted desperately to look them in the eye and tell them that he had tried his best to stop Dave. Perhaps it was to ease his own grief as much as theirs. Was it selfish to hope he could achieve both?

Of course, he couldn't exactly blurt out all of this to Detective Lopez, who seemed both uncaring and disapproving of the idea that Kurt was still looking into the situation. Instead, he just hoped to glean some more information so he could investigate things for himself. He couldn't just write off this whole experience and leave those pages of his life blank. He would always have more questions.

“Two things to remember, Hummel. First, don't get too attached to the victim. I know it may sound harsh, but I've been in this game a long time and-”

“Game?” Kurt almost laughed, though he thought the way it bubbled up was a little hysterical. “I saw a man _shoot himself in the head_ and you're calling this a _game?_ It’s not a _game_ to me.”

There was one of those awful deafening silences, which possibly could have been more bearable had he been able to actually see how the detective was reacting. But the phone didn't exactly allow for him to pick up more than her breathing, which was as steady as ever.

Kurt covered his face and tried not to curse audibly at his own stupidity. He waited for the snarky snapping response that would surely follow from a woman like Santana Lopez. But it never came. Instead, her voice was soft.

“There are people you can talk to at times like this, Kurt. I told you that the night of the incident, didn't I? I gave you a card before you left my office. Do you still have it?” She paused. He could almost feel her listening for a hint that he might be in tears. “Maybe you should try to get in touch with a professional who can help you understand your feelings right now.”

“I don't need to talk to _anyone_.” He was proud of how steady his voice sounded. The possibility had been suggested so many times that it was making him feel more than frustrated. Kurt Hummel knew how to handle things himself, thank you very much.

“Sure. Whatever you say.” Lopez sounded less patient now. He heard her sigh in a quick huff of annoyance and reshuffle something on the other end of the phone line. “Well, as I was about to tell you before I was interrupted, there _were_ no funeral arrangements. Mainly because there was no funeral. No idea where you've been getting your information, but they've been feeding you shit.”

“What?” Kurt said hollowly. “What do you mean?”

“Shit. You know, crap, poo, faeces, not sure how else you want it worded. Although doubtless someone like you wouldn't shit like a normal-”

“No.” Kurt interrupted, feeling a dig at his sexuality or general appearance might be on its way. “What do you mean 'there was no funeral'?”

“I mean the guy never died. He's still alive. In the hospital of course, and probably staying there for a good long while, but not dead.” She sounded exasperated, like this news should have been obvious to Kurt. Like he should have watched someone shoot themselves in the head and just assumed they would survive it. “I can find out where he is if you want. I wouldn't normally do this, but the guy's comatose so I guess he won't be doing much talking, and what the hell, it's about time I pissed _someone_ off. Haven't broken the rules in far too long.”

Kurt was speechless.

“Okay, so I'll text you the details when I find them.” Lopez said distractedly on the other end, already typing on a keyboard.

He intended to make some noise of goodbye, but the phone went dead as the detective hung up. For a moment Kurt just sat there, hand dropping into his lap, holding his phone face up in loose fingers. The screen went black. A small smile spread over his face.

Sometimes, when you witness a miracle, it makes you believe anything is possible.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

The stark white hospital room was too quiet. The only sounds came from the ventilator, assisting Dave's breathing with a faint whoosh, and the heart monitor, beeping out the last fragile thread of Dave's life. They filled the space with an impending sense of unease.

Dave himself looked like the polar opposite of what he had been the night they first met. His disheveled suit had been replaced with a crisp hospital gown. His previously red face was now too pale. Even his stocky solid build looked somewhat diminished surrounded as he was by the starched bedcovers, cheap visitors’ seats, and life support machines that were hooked to him with rather unnerving tubes.

Kurt stared at him for a long moment before choosing to sit on the seat to his left. On this side the gauzy bandages wrapped tightly around his head were far less visible. All he could see was Dave's serene round face, almost smiling in the midst of his slumber, as though he were sharing a private joke with himself.

“I saw him shoot himself.” Kurt numbly told Mercedes Jones, the nurse on duty. He had only just met her, but she had the sort of friendly no-nonsense demeanor that made you feel safe to tell her anything. “He held the gun right up against his head and just- just pulled the trigger. I saw his- his everything go- everywhere. How did he survive?”

“I would call it a miracle.” Mercedes said softly, offering him one of those small pitiful non-smiles he had been faced with so many times after his mother's death.

“What kind of miracle is that though?” Kurt couldn't help but question. He didn't know why he was saying all of this aloud. He was usually much better at keeping thoughts like this private. He felt like he was falling apart. “I read up about it. I was trying to see what I could have said to help him. Apparently it was good that I got him thinking rationally, considering the good parts of his life. Like his kids. Most people say that a suicidal person usually doesn't want to die. They're looking for a way to end their hardships- the- the pain of their life. They don't necessarily want to _die_ ; they just want to stop _existing_ for a moment. I think maybe Dave was like that. I mean, I did get through to him for a little while. I think I did. He put down the gun at least. I-I'm still trying to remember what it was that I said- wh-what made him pick it back up.”

“Kurt,” Mercedes said, her voice still so gentle. He looked up. “You know this isn't your fault, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

She was still watching him. He could feel her eyes searching his face. He focused very hard on the left back wheel of Dave's hospital bed. It must have scuffed across the floor each time it was moved because it left black streaks behind in its wake. Kurt tried to count the marks. There must have been dozens.

“Maybe you should talk to someone about this.” Mercedes said carefully. Her tone was warm, but Kurt couldn't help feeling a twitch of annoyance. “My husband Sam- he's a teacher- had to refer one of his kids to a therapist last month. Apparently she's improved a lot since then. It can really help, just having a professional to talk to.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Kurt tried to push the issue aside with an offhand laugh. “I'm _fine_. I really am.”

Mercedes' beautiful face was marred with concern, but she nodded respectfully. Kurt felt a prickle of regret, hoping he hadn't hurt another person's feelings.

“I guess you know your situation better than I do. I- How about I leave you alone with Dave for a bit? You take care, Mr Hummel.”

Before he could remind her to just call him “Kurt”, she had left the room.

For a moment, he looked at the door that had just closed behind her, unwilling to turn back toward his unconscious companion. He felt guilty about the sharpness in the way he'd insisted he was okay, and now that he had a chance to speak to Dave, to spill whatever he had been feeling without any sort of fear that the unconscious man might respond, he didn't know what to do.

Kurt shook himself and turned back to face his companion. In an automatic reaction to sitting beside a figure in a hospital bed, he started to reach for Dave's hand. But he froze halfway there and quickly withdrew. The gesture felt too intimate. He didn't even know if Dave liked to be touched, let alone by total strangers. On top of that, he certainly hadn't seemed like the type who would approve of Kurt's sexuality, much less want to hold hands with him.

Besides, Dave could easily blame Kurt for his situation. After all, he should have been able to stop the desperate man from shooting himself. Perhaps Dave had been hoping desperately that Kurt would help him find a way out, and the right way had never opened up. Kurt had failed him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Hello, Dave.” He managed.

There was no response.

“I'm Kurt Hummel. I was with you the night- when- the incident.” It didn't make any sense. He silently cursed himself. “I hope you don't mind if I sit with you for a while.”

Dave didn't even move.

Slowly, Kurt relaxed into the uncomfortable seat. It seemed as if the other man wasn't going to give any sign of whether he cared who was sitting by his hospital bed. He was too far gone for anything like that. His heartbeat just kept moving steadily onward, his breathing as even as ever.

Kurt didn't have anything he needed to say. He just sat there and waited until visiting hours were over, just in case Dave Karofsky woke up.

…

Kurt was still thinking about the incident when he returned home and started his usual evening routine. Memories of the night were running through his head, along with a commentary of his own judgements.

Just like every other time he went back over it, he questioned himself over the fact that he'd _actually_ chosen to engage in conversation with a stranger holding a gun in a deserted building.

Of course, he liked to help people, and often empathized enormously with people going through hardship. But the kind of situation he found himself in that night had been a little out of his usual range.

More than a little.

His actions were definitely less fueled by logic and more by the sheer reckless bravery he seemed to have inherited from his father. It was a trait of his that always surprised him when it came leaping up in times of stress, but he could certainly see exactly where it originated.

Whenever Burt Hummel found himself in a situation that required courage, he was always able to push past his fear and do what was required of him. Sometimes he tackled ridiculous obstacles with a stubborn passion that was almost too dramatic. As a child this had been something Kurt had always admired. It made him feel unquestionably safe. He couldn't help but feel a little proud that he managed the same sort of courage, even as he shook his head at his own recklessness.

On top of that, Burt was a practical problem solver. Because he lacked his wife's ability to decipher exactly what was bothering her son at any given time, his father would intuitively notice something was wrong and then directly ask what it was. When Kurt explained the problem, Burt would set about solving it, logically and determinedly, even if he didn't fully understand why it was so upsetting.

Kurt must have picked up some of this attitude as well, because his father's methods of problem solving had been his first instinct when he saw Dave. Despite his pounding heart and the sudden rush of adrenaline and absolute terror in his veins, he had taken action.

He'd started by hesitantly broaching the subject of what was wrong, then listened carefully to the other man's problems, asking the occasional leading question and trying to understand him as best he could. After that, he had attempted to change Dave's perspective on things as drastically as possible and as quickly as possible. Last of all, Kurt had convinced him to put down the gun and let him call for professional help. It had seemed like it might be just the right thing to do at the time; define the problem, understand the problem, work on starting a long term solution, and find a short term solution.

He still wished that those actions had been enough to solve everything, but unfortunately, life wasn't that easy, and Dave picked up the gun again. Kurt was left cursing himself for not understanding that sooner.

Even now, he felt a little foolish, still hanging by Dave's side, even planning to go back to the hospital the next day. He just didn't want to leave him alone when it was his words that had put him there in the first place. It wasn't like he really knew the man. He hadn't even spoken to him for a whole half hour. But he didn't want to leave him alone after failing him so badly. Guilt was an effective tie.

Kurt especially didn't want to return to his borrowed apartment - by himself - and wander restlessly around the unfamiliar rooms, flicking the television on and off, feeling lonelier than ever boxed in by four walls with nothing to do.

He had plenty of friends he could have stayed with, but the problem was that either they had lives too busy for him to interfere with, or they were mutual friends of him and Adam. Most of _them_ were trying very hard not to pick sides in the mess that was the end of a three year relationship. And Kurt was well aware that he'd come out of this looking like the bad guy, the one who had left his boyfriend seemingly out of the blue and broken his heart.

Rachel had offered to let him stay with her and Finn, but he didn't think he could put up with her endless fretting. She was still so convinced that he was emotionally scarred in some way. The levels of smothering were bound to be impossible to cope with. Kurt may have been lonely, but he still valued his private time. He wanted more freedom than he would get at her house. That was why he'd left Adam in the first place.

He needed a place where he could feel safe and calm and comfortable, where the stresses and worries of his current life would fade away around him and he could let himself just feel at peace.

Kurt had been actively seeking it for a while; wanting somewhere that might become a sort of sanctuary for him.

That's why he'd even gone to the abandoned building site in the first place. He'd been searching for that intangible feeling of security. Not that he had ever actually admitted it out loud, not to Detective Lopez, not to Rachel, not even to his father.

“What _were_ you doing out there all alone?” Adam had questioned him when Kurt first told him the story.

Kurt hadn't really known how to answer him then. He still didn't think he could answer the question now. How would he ever put it into words? To say it out loud sounded stupid. To say it out loud would only draw more pitying glances from whoever he told. To say it out loud would be to admit that he felt ridiculously lost in his life, and overwhelmingly trapped.

That was something Kurt never wanted to admit.

But alone in his apartment bathroom, with his toothbrush hanging halfway out of his mouth and his hair starting to flop down across his forehead, he could at least admit it to himself. He could at least let himself think about that magical place he was still determined to find.

When Kurt thought about it, he could pinpoint the moment where he'd turned his vague listlessness into a desire to actually find a place that would make him feel better. It had been on the last anniversary of his mother's death. The day that marked eighteen years since he lost her. Kurt had started realizing just how hard it was for him to remember her. He had photographs, home movies, even a bottle of her old perfume. But still, the image of his mother was something that was slipping from his fingertips far more quickly than he was comfortable with.

And Elizabeth had always made him feel safe. Only Burt Hummel still gave him the same feeling. The problem was that he couldn't just drive all the way to his father's house every time he was upset. But perhaps he could seek out a place that reminded him of his mother; that made him feel near to her again, and go there instead.

So Kurt had been looking for a place that would bring back those memories.

There was a whole two months between the anniversary of Elizabeth's death and the Dave Karofsky incident where he spent a great deal of time seeking out places he had been with his mother. It was fascinating revisiting them all; his old school, the park they would often frequent, the ice cream shop where he used to hold her hand and order the same thing every Friday afternoon. The list seemed endless, but Kurt was willing to try every place he could think of.

The problem was that not a single one of the locations he tried held even the barest trace of Elizabeth Hummel. The school was marred by so many poor memories beside the few good ones, and crowded with rowdy children anyway. The park was nothing more than a scramble of rusted equipment, graffiti, and the stale evidence of a late night drunken visitor. The ice cream shop had been sold, converted into a hairdresser and scrubbed into a bright white gleaming building so utterly different from the old pastel interior that Kurt hardly recognized it. Every single place had somehow been wiped clean or beaten down since his childhood. It was almost depressing to return.

The abandoned building site itself hadn't been much different. It had also changed almost unrecognisably since the day he last visited. It was no longer a wide green football field withtarnished white posts at either end and faded painted lines clinging to the slightly-too-long grass. That had all been cleared away entirely a long time ago.

When he was very young, his father had been a part of an informal football league. There were a lot of men his age who formed teams with their friends or workmates, and they all played games against each other every once in a while. Burt and the other men working at Hummel Tires and Lube made their own group and signed up for the roster. It was one of the things his father had loved being involved with, and although Kurt and his mother didn't really care much for football, they tried to attend as many games as they could.

...

Not long after his eighth birthday, on the last good day he'd really had with Elizabeth before she died, they had driven out to Columbus to watch one of the games. Together they traipsed up to the rickety stands with picnic blankets, bags, and their sunhats half falling off their heads. Kurt still remembered the sensation of sitting on the hard concrete seats, and clutching at his mom's hand, cheering his father on. He could taste the sweet peas he'd taken with him, and hear the chatter of the other families who'd come along to watch their own parents compete.

Even though he'd complained about having to watch _football_ the whole trip over, he found he suddenly didn't care about being forced to be there.

His mother was so bright and vital at his side, losing her composure more than once to scream down at her husband on the field. Kurt hadn't seen her so alive in a very long time. It made it completely worth the car ride and the boring sport to have his mother smiling like that again, instead of that sad mournful twitch of the lips she'd been giving him lately.

As he munched steadily through the small bag of sweet peas his father had packed into his backpack, he started becoming a little more interested in the game going on beneath him. This always seemed to happen when watching Burt's games. Kurt had discovered that he only cared about a football game if he cared about the people playing it. It was hard not to get excited when it was his father down there.

And besides, no one in these games ever wore professional uniforms, and therefore, no one ever wore stirrup pants. There was never an excuse for stirrup pants.

Kurt, as always, was watching Burt more than any other player, feeling pride soar whenever his father managed to do anything particularly impressive. Before long he was on his feet beside his mother, bag of sweet peas stuffed into the pocket of his pale blue coat, yelling at the top of his lungs as Burt thundered down the last few feet to the yard line.

“That's my Dad!” he screamed, leaping up on his tiptoes to raise his arms and gesture wildly toward the end of the field. “That's my Dad!”

Burt turned toward the stands at the sound of Kurt's voice. He beamed, waving wildly at his son, who was jumping up and down to wave in return.

The smile on Burt's face was ear-splitting. He didn't take his eyes off his family until his teammates collided with him for their own celebratory hug.

Kurt fell back on his heels, smile still pinned to his face.

Elizabeth's hand reached down to brush fondly through his hair and he grinned up at her.

“Dad's _amazing_.” He told her, eyes shining.

“He is.” She said. “You both are.”

After the game ended (and Kurt couldn't for the life of his recall the winning team) they folded up the picnic blankets they'd been sitting on, packed their snacks back into their bags,handed Burt a spare water bottle, and made their way back to the car together. Walking between them, clinging to both of their hands, Kurt felt undeniably content. He was completely safe in the assurance that they both loved him.

He would never forget the look on Elizabeth's face when she said those words.

…

Kurt set down his toothbrush and stared at himself in the mirror, using all his energy to will away the tears that sprung up behind his eyes.

He really wanted to get that feeling back. With a long sigh, he decided he was still going to keep looking for that special place. He wasn't going to let the shock of his encounter with Dave distract him from finding a sanctuary.

Kurt reached up and fixed his hair in the mirror. He pouted unhappily at the bags under his eyes and then remembered it didn't matter. It was the middle of the night. It wasn't like he would see anyone.

He pulled on a pair of jeans, and then the crumpled shirt he'd been wearing all day, but made it a little classier with a gracefully cut coat and a light scarf.

He already had a place in mind. There was a bridge he used to go to with his mother when he was five years old. For a while during that time, Elizabeth had taken him on weekly visits to his grandmother in her retirement home in Columbus. It was always upsetting to see her so frail, and after every visit his mother had taken him to a little bakery and then walked with him along the Main Street Bridge.

Kurt had loved leaning on the railing watching things move through the water below, Elizabeth’s hand on the back of his coat stopping him from falling in.

Smiling a little at the memory, he tucked his phone into his pocket and grabbed his car keys. He would go to the bridge. He may as well keep searching.

But Kurt hesitated a moment at his front door one last time. He felt almost worried about going out so late again. The last time he'd been out looking for his sanctuary at midnight, he'd stumbled across Dave Karofsky...

But Kurt shook off the concern. The bridge was a public place, and would probably have some foot traffic even this late at night, so he wouldn't be alone. And besides, the chances were low that anything _that_ shocking would occur this time.

Lightning never strikes twice, right?

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

The streets of Columbus were fairly quiet that Sunday night, and it was bitterly cold. Kurt was glad he'd taken a sturdy coat with him, or he never would have had the nerve to climb out of his parked car and begin making his way down the street toward the bridge.

It wasn't like Kurt hadn't seen the Main Street Bridge since his childhood. He must have driven past it at least once a week as he made his way through town. But he was hoping that if he took the time to walk across and just absorb the old emotions attached to the place, he would be able to relax and slip into a different headspace.

As he turned off down the correct path, hands deep in his pockets, he tried to remember walking down the same route with his mother.

He felt a chill whip through him as the wind picked up and winced, drawing his coat more tightly around himself. If Elizabeth had taken him to the bridge in the winter, it would be a gloved hand holding his tightly as they walked. They would have forgone their usual ice creams for steaming take-away cups of hot chocolate.

Kurt approached his destination from below, on a path often taken by joggers and dog-walkers, which wound up toward the pavement that led directly onto the bridge itself. As soon as the structure came into view, he ran his eyes along the concrete edges.

It was the same as ever. The dark water reflected the familiar shape back at him in double. Except there was one thing different. One thing wrong.

A lone man, dressed entirely in the darkest clothing, was clinging to the outside of the bridge and staring into the frigid river below.

Kurt's eyes dropped to the water as his stomach dropped into his gut. For a second, he felt a chill ripple up his spine at the sight of the gloomy endless movement of the river. Then, as his feet carried him forward without his consent, he became aware of a crowd gathered at the bottom of the bridge, on the path in front of him. He came to a stop as he reached them, looking up again.

Okay, apparently lightning did strike twice.

Kurt couldn't believe he'd landed himself in this situation again. He bit down hard on his bottom lip. It would be so easy to turn away now. There was a woman in the crowd already punching the emergency number into her cell phone. She would take care of things. Professionals would arrive. The police would deal with the man on the bridge. Kurt didn't have to be involved.

Not Again.

But Kurt couldn't help thinking of Dave's face right before he pulled the trigger, flushed and twisted and shining with tears; or after, in intensive care, pale and round and completely still.

On the bridge, he saw the man shift his footing, straighten his shoulders.

And then adrenaline pumped through Kurt's body. There was no other choice he could have made. He had to save the man on the bridge.

He put one foot in front of the other, a little wobbly for a moment, and then he began to gain speed, racing forward as fast as he could possibly go. The crowd disappeared behind him as he tore up the incline, heart pounding. He took the bend quickly and emerged onto the bridge, coming to a stop in case approaching too quickly would spook the stranger.

 _You can do this._ Kurt told himself. _You're going to help._

Kurt's view of the man was clearer now. The dark clothes almost blended with the mop of black curls being whipped about ferociously by the wind. His feet jutted out over the edge on the wrong side of the ledge. His hands gripped so tightly to the edge that his knuckles were white. It seemed like it would be an effort for him to even hold himself there for any lengthy period of time.

It was too late to go back now. Not that Kurt's stubborn spirit would ever have allowed him to do so.

“Excuse me?” He called out, gently. He was pleased that his voice came out clear and calm rather than strangled, which, in all honesty, had been what he was expecting. “Can I come closer? Please don't be alarmed. I won't touch you.”

The man looked up. His face was shadowy, though Kurt knew his own was illuminated by the streetlight right above him. All he took in was a flash of large golden eyes, full of emotion. He held his breath waiting for a response.

But the man turned back to gaze down at the river, intent on watching the water.

Kurt had barely penetrated his thoughts. He was still lost in the swirling eddies of his own mind.

“My name is Kurt.” He said, taking a step carefully closer.

“Please, don't come near me!” His voice was panicked, yet still somehow polite.

Kurt stopped. He didn't mind the distance between them. It was an arm’s length at the least. Enough for him to lurch forward and grab hold of a sleeve if anything happened too quickly.

“Okay. I'm not moving.”

The man began to turn his head again, as if to see where Kurt was standing.

“Please, stay focused.” Kurt said hurriedly. “I don't want you to fall.”

“Fall?” the man said dully, his glanced back down to the water. “Implying that I would fall by accident?”

Kurt was usually witty, but he wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. The man looked up at him properly, and now that he was closer, Kurt really saw his face. He couldn't deny that it surprised him.

They couldn't possibly have been more than a couple of years apart in age, yet somehow the stranger managed to look far older and yet much younger all at once. He was also handsome. The kind of shocking ,charming, handsome that would have made Kurt pause to catch his breath if they'd met in any other situation. Even looking as absolutely devastated as he currently was, there was something alluring about his face. Chiselled jaw line, soft pinks lips, a little stubble, and nice enough cheekbones accompanying it all to call to mind the image of an old Hollywood movie star.Not to mention those unusually beautiful eyes. Under thick brows, drawn up despairingly in the middle, it was the golden smouldering eyes that really highlighted the handsome endearing grace of the man's face.

Then Kurt noticed that his pupils were so dilated they projected nothing but fear. He blinked rapidly, wavering a little in his attempt to make eye contact.

“Do you think I would care if I fell? I didn't come here by accident.”

He turned away abruptly, trying to tune Kurt out again.

“What's your name?” Kurt asked quickly, wanting to keep the conversation going.

“I want to be alone right now.” His voice was rough. “Please.”

“I don’t think that's a good idea. I'm worried about you. I can tell you're upset right now. I just want to help.” Kurt decided honesty might possibly work in his favour.

“I don't need help.” The man kept his sole focus on the river below.

Kurt watched his knuckles turn even whiter on the railing, and then regain their colour as he flexed his fingers, almost loosening his grip entirely before grasping firmly again. His heart leapt.

“I'd really like to talk to you.”

“I don't _want to.”_ The man said. “I really don't. I'm sorry. I just wanted to come out here and do this on my own. No people. No causing a scene. I want to be _alone_. I just- I just wa- I didn't think it would take me this long.”

“No one else will set foot on this bridge unless I let them come closer, okay? You have my word on that. No more unexpected visitors.” Kurt promised, determined. “There's no rush. No need to panic. You don't have to do anything without thinking it through. We have plenty of time. I just need you to talk about what you're feeling.”

The man was silent. His curls were handled roughly by the wind. His grip kept tightening and loosening.

“I would really like to hear your name.” Kurt said softly.

He felt like he was losing his cool just watching this happen again, but he tried to push those emotions away. This wasn't about him. It was about the man on the bridge. He wouldn't let himself cry.

And he wouldn't give up. He couldn't just leave now, could he? He couldn't be responsible for another victim.

But the man had been unresponsive for so long. He was completely focused on the river. How was Kurt supposed to get through to him? How was he supposed to help if he couldn't even break past the initial barrier and start communicating properly?

“Blaine. My name is Blaine.”

Kurt felt wobbly with relief. Maybe there was some hope.

“Okay. I would like to help you, Blaine.” He said.

“There's no point.” Blaine almost laughed.

“I'd like to hear what you have to say. Tell me what's bothering you.”

“You can't talk me out of this.”

“Give me a chance, Blaine. I just want to talk to you. That's all. I want you to understand that you have so many choices – so many alternatives. I know it may be hard to imagine right now but it's true. This doesn't have to be the only option.” He took a deep breath, trying to think back to those things he'd read online after that night with Dave Karofsky. Was he taking the right approach? What had the advice been for handling a situation like this? He couldn't remember. He could only try to say the right thing.

“Let me help you to safety and we can talk.”

Those eyes, so full of their own unfathomable depth of emotion, sought his again. Kurt could almost see something falling away behind them.

“I'm sorry,” Blaine said.

This time, when his fingers loosened on the railing, his body relaxed as well, ready for the tumble.

Before Kurt even thought about the movement, he was crying out Blaine's name and lunging forward. His arms slipped right around the other man's waist, snapping his body back against his own, railings pressed between then, just seconds before his weight tipped him forward into the wintery water below.

It took Kurt a second to realize what had happened. His breath rushed out in a relieved gasp, sending visible steam in a puff past the curve of the other man's cheek. Subconsciously, he tightened his grip a little, acclimating to the precious weight he now held in his arms. And, oh god, he was so much smaller than he looked. Though his shoulders were broad, his frame was compact and fit surprisingly well into Kurt's. Blaine's back was right up against his front, his figure supported by the full strength of Kurt's upper body. Beneath Kurt's winding arms, his chest was heaving with shallow breaths.

For a moment, the two were frozen, minds processing the passing of such a sudden event. Then, Kurt rested his head against Blaine's right shoulder, desperately hoping the other man wouldn't struggle. He didn't know if he'd actually be able to hold on for very long if that happened. Surely someone from the crowd of spectators would realize he was out of his depth. They'd come and help him soon. Or the police would arrive.

In his muddle of thoughts, he was aware that Blaine smelled nice; like aftershave, and there was a hint of raspberry in his hair, as if he'd just taken a shower. It seemed discordant with the hopeless image Blaine had projected so far. The smell was fresh and clean and vital. It was youthful and alive.

And then Kurt noticed that Blaine's fingers were digging into his forearms, his hands clutching to the chance of life. It may have just been shock that made him grab at the sudden restraints around his chest, but it gave Kurt hope nonetheless. Something in Blaine was still holding on.

“What are you doing?” Blaine panted.

“Please don't do this.” Kurt felt his throat close over with what was halfway to becoming a sob. He tried to swallow it. “Please don't jump.”

Blaine was still. His thumb brushed Kurt's coat sleeve as he looked down at the arms around his middle. As close as he was, Kurt could see the thick eyelashes fan out across his cheeks. He felt his own eyes prickle with tears and cursed himself. He did not want to make this about him. But he couldn't stop the mix of desperate panic and relief clawing at his chest.

“Please.” His voice cracked this time, a little too high pitched to pass off as normal.

Blaine tried to turn his head, but they weren't at a good angle for him to see Kurt's face. He would only end up with his nose pressed into the taller man's jaw line.

“Are you... are you crying?” He asked, giving up on tilting his neck back.

“Yes,” Kurt admitted weakly. “Please, Blaine, get down and talk to me instead.”

“Damn it.” Blaine said it like it was the worst of swear words.

Kurt couldn't stop crying now. His attempts to control it only made him choke a little on his own tears.

“What the heck?” Blaine shuffled again, and Kurt tightened his arms as much as he could in case he tried to break free, but the other man simply leaned back enough to see his face. His right hand lifted from Kurt's forearm and gripped the edge of the bridge between them, his left hand moving to grab Kurt's right arm instead, so that he was supported by his own grip as well as the two arms encircling him, half-turned toward his companion. He made no attempt to jump.

Their eyes met, and Blaine's eyebrows shot up. He looked like a person coming out of a trance. The glazed teary look evaporated in favour of damp-eyed concern.

“Are you okay?”

Kurt almost laughed. He couldn't help seeing the irony of _Blaine_ asking _him_ that question, especially considering their current position.

“No,” He answered honestly. It would have been stupid to say anything else, what with the tears slipping down his cheeks. He really wanted to wipe his nose, because he could feel it running. But he couldn't risk letting go of Blaine.

For a moment, he was transfixed under Blaine's gaze. The pupils that had been blown wide in fear just moments before were now far less dilated, focused on Kurt's face. There was bewilderment in the tilt of his head.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asked.

“No.” Kurt sniffed. “I didn't even know your name until a few minutes ago.”

He hugged Blaine tighter, worried about their precarious position. Blaine's feet may have been fully planted on the bridge, he may have been solidly inside the circle of Kurt's arms, he may have had one hand on the bridge and the other still rested against Kurt's right forearm, but it was still such a delicate balance.

Blaine looked at him as if he was crazy. Slowly, he shook his head.

Kurt's heartbeat stuttered with worry.

Blaine glanced back down at the river, across at the waiting crowd, up over the skyline, back to the water.

Some asshole yelled unintelligible words in their direction, but they were carried off by the wind.

Blaine let go of the bridge again, let go of Kurt's arm.

He tugged forward, trying to squirm. For a second, it felt like he was going to break out. But then his back hit Kurt's chest again, and he was still firmly held in place.

“No.” Kurt's fingers locked under Blaine's armpits, like a harness across his chest. “Blaine, stop.”

“I- I can't – I -”

His face crumpled and he sagged loosely back into Kurt's arms again. His feet hung out over the water now. He felt so weak. So weak.

“I just want-”

He let out a heaving sob and stopped.

“Grab hold of me again, please.” Kurt said gently. For some reason, it was easier to be calm with tears streaming down his face. Especially now that Blaine was crying as well now. It proved to Kurt that Blaine was connected with the world around him. It gave him enough hope to keep trying even after his arms had been jerked in their sockets.

“No- I need- I need- I have to-”

“Blaine, you need to hold on to me and breathe.”

For several long seconds, Blaine dangled limply in his arms, his eyes squeezed shut. Kurt's muscles were protesting, but he kept on stubbornly holding him up, the strain pulling at his back.

With a loud whimper, Blaine finally moved again. His feet scrambled for purchase against the outer ledge of the bridge. He regained his footing. His hands fluttered weakly to rest on Kurt's arms again.

“I was doing so well at not c-crying or freaking out. I was going to do this without any of the _drama_.”

“Sometimes it's okay to feel things. Sometimes it's okay to have your plans turn out differently than you expected.” Kurt said. He wasn't quite sure if he was very good at following and believing in his own words, but it was exactly what his father would have said.

Blaine's breath shuddered out of him. Kurt hooked his chin over his shoulder, their cheeks almost touching. He wanted Blaine to feel his support.

“Do you really want to die, Blaine?” He asked softly. “Or do you just want the pain to stop?”

There was no answer. Just a quiet sob.

“The pain might be overwhelming right now. It might be the last thing you feel before you sleep, or the first thing when you wake up again. It might seem to be constantly hanging over your shoulder. And I know not everyone understands that. But I do, Blaine. I understand how that feels.” Kurt looked out over the water and thought about those days when he had only been eight years old and his mother died. Or back in High School, when he'd barely stopped himself from slipping away amidst all the scorn directed toward him. In his arms, Blaine was suddenly still, listening closely. “But you don't _always_ want to end it, do you? The idea just passes through your mind when you're at your worst. That may have been happening more frequently lately. Like a habit; thinking of ways you might end your life. I doubt you would have come here if you hadn't seriously considered it. But those moments when you think about death, they're still just moments. All moments tend to pass by eventually. Am I right?”

Very carefully, Blaine nodded. The movement was so small Kurt would have missed it if their ears hadn't brushed together with the tilt of Blaine's head. He felt hope swell a little higher inside himself.

“You might think you're better off dead. But that's not true. That's never true. Dying is never the only option for anyone, Blaine. If you jump now, you won't just slip from living to dead without leaving a ripple. There will be so many other people affected by your death. Even if you think they'll be better off without you, I can promise you that isn't true. No one would wish this on another person. No one wants this for anyone. Even if you feel absolutely alone at this moment, I _know_ there are lives that will be impacted painfully by losing you. Mine included now.” Kurt took a deep breath. He had no idea if he was even articulating his jumbled thoughts correctly. “But those people don't have to go through all that pain. And you don't have to lose your life. You can get through this. So let's get down off this bridge and talk about it. We'll find another solution together. This moment will pass. It'll pass.”

Kurt was very aware that the flow of tears had never stopped pouring down his own face, but his voice was no longer cracking. Instead, his tone was strong and determined. His last words hung in the air over the dark water below them.

He cast a sidelong glance at Blaine, straining his eyes a little. The other man was still staring down at the river, but his gaze was no longer stationary, or transferring with deliberation from one place to another. It whizzed back and forth, across the crowd below, up to the lights of the city around them, to the moon hanging low over the horizon, taking everything in. There was a furrow in his brow, like he was thinking as hard as he could. He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Kurt looked away. He turned his own regard back along the bridge, trying to see if there was any sign of police coming to help. He was glad that they had some privacy for the first time that night, worried that any new arrivals might cause Blaine to panic.

“I read about a guy who drowned in this river. Was by accident. Swimming while drunk. Got stuck under some old rubbish at the bottom.” Blaine's voice was unsteady as he shared.

“That doesn't sound like a good way to go.” Kurt said carefully.

“No.” He agreed. “But at least then he was dead. He didn't have to keep on...”

Kurt waited for the end of the sentence, but it never came.

“Blaine, you know you'll fight for your life as soon as you hit the water. Even if you want to die, no matter how badly you want that, your instincts will kick in. Your body was designed to survive. And even after you lose consciousness, there are so many people watching right now. They could easily call for help. They could drag you right back out of the water and give you mouth to mouth and medical care within minutes. They could save your life.” He said it tentatively, tensing a little because he wasn't sure what reaction to expect. Keeping Blaine thinking rationally had worked so far, but he wasn't sure if this conversation was the right one to have anymore. He didn't know where he was going with it.

“I want it to end.” Blaine practically whimpered the words. He shivered in Kurt's arms. “It hurts.”

“What does?” Kurt probed, hoping to keep him talking, keep him thinking.

“Specifically?” Blaine let out a bitter sound that might have been intended as a laugh. “Living.”

“Why don't we get down from here and talk about this properly?”

“I-” Blaine shook his head more rapidly now, still crying in earnest. “It's too late. I know what you said makes sense but I- it's too late to choose another option. I can't change things. I can't bear the idea of trying to- of having to- I don't want another moment of this. It's too much. It's too late.”

“It's never too late. It's always possible to change your life. There's _always_ hope. I can help you, Blaine.” He felt a little bold making that declaration, but he was desperate now. He couldn't stand the idea that this stranger might still plunge himself into those icy waters. Not after all of this. All of this couldn't lead to nothing. Kurt had to _help_ him.

“What happens if it doesn't work?” Blaine's shoulders shuddered with sobs. “If I can't change anything...”

“It will change. If you want it to- if you're willing to try- then it will change.”

“But what if-”

“It will change, Blaine. I promise.”

For a long moment, they just hung there. Blaine lifted a hand to wipe at his face.

“If it doesn't, I'm coming back. I'm doing this again.” He said it defiantly. His jaw was set.

“Fine.” Kurt said, just as stubbornly. “But I swear to you right now that you can change things. I'll show you how. You'll see how wonderful life can be. You and me; we'll work things out.”

“Fine.” Blaine said slowly. His fingers dug into Kurt's arms for a moment. “It's a deal.”

Kurt felt something akin to dread wash over him. He hadn't intended to form any sort of deal.

“If I can't see it, if you can't convince me, then I'm coming back. Maybe not even to this bridge, but I will be doing this again. If my life doesn't change I don't want to keep living it. A-are you sure you really want to help me?” Blaine's voice cracked over the last sentence.

Suddenly, Kurt knew he was going to agree to this. He had promised to help Blaine after all, and he had intended to. Even if he hadn't originally been expecting to get involved in a more long-term agreement, he wasn't going to refuse it now. Not if it would save a life. Not if it would save Blaine.

“I'm sure.”

Blaine nodded again. His chest relaxed, no longer heaving with every sob. He trembled a little and shifted in Kurt's arms.

“What are you doing?” Kurt asked, alarmed.

“I need to climb back over.” Blaine

“I'm not letting go of you.” Kurt said sternly.

Blaine half-laughed. It was a tiniest little chuckle, the barest grin that made his nose scrunch for just a second, but it was enough to make Kurt feel a little of the tension lift. He loosened his grip.

“I'll call for someone to come and help us.” Kurt said, unsure if he believed that Blaine could climb back up over the railing all by himself.

“I got here myself. I can get back myself.” Blaine said firmly, as though he knew what Kurt was thinking.

“I don't like-”

But Blaine had already started turning around. His feet were too big on the narrow ledge. His hands clung tight to the top of the railing as he tipped to one side, huffing as he tried to hook his ankle over the bar.

Kurt hovered worriedly, hands trembling and ready to grab a hold of Blaine if anything went wrong. Suddenly the wind seemed stronger and the air colder and the metal of the bridge balustrade more slippery.

Blaine angled his body to the right, swinging his leg up again. This time his foot hooked over, but he wobbled too much in the pivot. Kurt gasped as his other foot slipped right off the bridge.For a moment he felt like that world had frozen in place. Blaine was caught in an endless second in front of him, with one leg curved over the railing, and his body tipping backward.

Then Blaine's right hand shot out, flailing as it sought purchase.

Kurt lurched forward and grabbed onto it, his other hand taking hold of a handful of Blaine's hoodie, yanking him nearer with all his strength. In that moment, he felt all the vitality in Blaine's grip, the need to be on safe ground again. It was the fear in his eyes that was most stunning, however. A man who had wanted to die mere seconds ago was now fighting to live.

With the last of his energy, Kurt tugged Blaine forward.

He slid over to the right side of the bridge, and together he and Kurt collapsed onto the ground.

Blaine's palms pressed flat to the pavement as he sat, crumpled, and tried to catch his breath. Kurt pressed a hand to his own wildly beating heart, and smiled, slow and unsure, as he took in the sight of the man beside him. The man who was safe, at least for a while, because he had been able to do something to help.

Kurt still wasn't breathing properly. He leaned his head on his knees, letting his eyes slip closed, letting himself calm down.

“Are you okay?” Blaine said.

“Yeah.” Kurt opened his eyes and smiled again. “Thank you, Blaine.”

“What for?”

“For not jumping.”

Blaine grimaced. He still looked tired, the thrilling terror evaporating and leaving him a little flat.

“Always happy to oblige.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I didn't catch your name.” Blaine said suddenly, extending a hand. “You already have mine, of course.”

“Kurt.” He said, smiling again as they shook hands. Blaine held on tightly.

“I think my birthday will make a good deadline.” He said slowly, watching Kurt's reaction with solemn eyes. “For our deal.”

 _Deadline?_ The word echoed dully in Kurt's head.

Oh shit.

Despite wanting to take it all back, he nodded.

And before they could say another word, footsteps thundered nearer and they both turned. Detective Lopez was racing toward them with several others in tow. Her heels clicked loudly on the bridge. Her steps only faltered when she caught sight of Kurt.

“Oh joy.” Blaine said, staring at them with dread.

Kurt couldn't help but echo the sentiment. He had no idea what he'd gotten himself into.

Oh _shit._

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 “What the fuck do you think you're _doing_ here?” Detective Lopez hissed, too close to Kurt's face for him to be comfortable. He shifted back from her, aware that Blaine was watching them from the ambulance down the street where they were checking him for signs of physical damage.

“Trying to help.”

“And how do you know _this one?”_ She demanded.

“I don't know hi-”

“Then why are you _here_?”

“I was walking past and I saw him up on the bridge so I-”

“You expect me to believe that you were just 'walking past' again? As if this could possibly be a coincidence!” Lopez scoffed. “The universe is rarely so lazy.”

Kurt blinked at her, unable to tell if she was really this furious or if it was partly an act.

“I _was_ just walking past.”

“Twice in such a short period of time?” She pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “Look, if you're playing at being some sort of caped-crusader...”

“I'm not.” Kurt snapped. “I don't want to be a superhero, okay? I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and figured I could help. That's _all._ ”

Lopez spent another few moments glaring at him. He felt almost guilty as he noticed once again how tired she looked under her expertly applied make-up. She obviously had a lot on her plate.

“And besides, I _did_ help, didn't I? He's back on the bridge.”

“Barely.” She allowed. Kurt's eyes flickered back over her shoulder to Blaine. They exchanged a weak smile.

“This isn't funny, Princess.” Lopez snapped, catching the tail end.

“I'm not _laughing_.” He refrained from insulting her in return.

“You're telling me about this from start to finish back at the station.”

“Happy to do it.” Kurt's smile was icy this time, accompanied by his patent bitch-face. Lopez turned on her heel and beckoned him after her.

As they reached her car, which was parked right alongside the ambulance, Blaine stood.

“You can't take him as well.” Blaine said. He looked exhausted as well as worried.

“Don't worry about him.” Suddenly the detective's tone was soft. Kurt recognized the tenderness from their phone call the other day, but he was still stunned by it.

“He was only helping.” Blaine protested, looking helpless himself.

“We just want to talk to him.” Lopez said, soothing. “It's you we need to _worry_ about.”

“Me?” Blaine said, as if it were really so surprising. “I'm fine. It was just a moment of madness, I swear.”

Lopez rolled her eyes and quickly ushered him toward her car. As soon as the door shut behind her, Kurt was taken by another officer into a second car. They followed Blaine and Detective Lopez all the way back to the station. The second officer led him inside to a cluttered office. It wasn't long before the detective joined him, shedding her coat and dropping into her seat on the other side of the desk. She began questioning him about the event. Although Kurt answered as truthfully as he could, it was clear that Lopez didn't _completely_ believe him. Nor did the woman they sent him to afterward.

They let him go after just over an hour.

“What about Blaine?” He asked Detective Lopez, who had come to tell him it was time to leave.

“He isn't your concern anymore.” She told him.

“But where is he?”

“Being assessed by a psychologist.”

“Can I see him?” Kurt asked, impatient. He didn't like the idea of Blaine being away from him until he could see for himself whether he was going to be okay.

“ _Kurt,_ ” Lopez said slowly. “I'm not sure...”

“What?”

“I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to be so caught up in this. Remember what I said about not getting involved?” When he simply stared at her in stony silence, she rolled her eyes and took hold of his elbow, propelling him toward the door. “There's a taxi outside. Go home. Get some sleep. _Try_ to keep your pristine porcelain ass out of trouble.”

“Fine.” Kurt shook her off and marched outside. He felt the cold wind in his bones and slowed as soon as the door closed behind him. With a little huff, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and stared up at the Church across the road.

For a very long time, he stood frozen in place and simply mulled things over, shock really sinking in now that he was alone.

The door opened behind him again and the assertive clack of high heels told him exactly who was coming out to meet him.

“You're still here.” Detective Lopez didn't sound surprised, in all honesty. Kurt just looked at her. For once he couldn't come up with a quick response.

“He's been asking for you.” She said finally.

Kurt's heart lifted. He couldn't help the smile that sprung to his face.

“He'll be spending the night here at the station anyway so I figured I may as well come and see if you wanted me to give him your number.” She shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. “That okay?”

“Yes.” Kurt blurted. “Yes. Of course. Let me write it down.”

“I already have it.” Lopez reminded him. She sighed, reaching out a hand and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He'll be okay, Kurt. Just get in the taxi.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He could tell this gesture meant a lot coming from Santana Lopez, and he couldn't help being both grateful and a little confused. He'd been sure she mistrusted and disliked him. But as he expressed his gratitude he saw the ghost of a smile cross her face. She waved a manicured hand at him.

“It's not a problem.”

He took the taxi all the way home.

Unsurprisingly, it was impossible to sleep. He was glad of the coffee machine keeping him company, and the scraps of paper he was absently covering with sketches of dark messy dresses and structured concrete-grey suits.

He stared at his phone until seven a.m. swung around and cars began to move about on the road outside. For the first time that night, Kurt nodded off, only to have his alarm blaring into his ear only twenty minutes later.

Blaine hadn't called.

...

In fact, it wasn't until that night at six p.m. that his phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. Kurt leapt onto it, using one hand to mute the rerun of _Project Runway_ in the background.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Kurt? This is Blaine. I- uh- I thought we should meet up?”

…

Now that Kurt was looking up at the bridge again, he realized what a stupid idea it had been to meet here. It had sort of made sense at the time, seeing as it was the only place they had in common, but now the sight of it just filled him with nervous energy that made him totally unable to stop shivering.

Blaine was standing ahead of him on the path under the bridge, looking into the water, so Kurt sped up to reach him.

“Blaine!” he called.

At the sound of his voice, Blaine turned, eyes widening at the sight of him like it was a surprise. He broke into a slightly bitter smile and then raised one hand in greeting.

Blaine was wearing the same shapeless black clothing from the previous night, and Kurt realized that he hadn't had the chance to go and change yet.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, sure I am.” Blaine still sounded like the whole affair hadn't quite sunk in yet.

“Where did they take you last night?”

“Had to tell my version of events to the detective and then they sent me in for a psych assessment. Which I passed with flying colours.” Blaine looked smug at that admission, and Kurt frowned.

“How on _earth_?”

“No need to use that tone, Kurt. Do I look crazy to you?” Blaine tipped his head to one side, looking so innocent and boyish it was making Kurt's head spin trying to keep up with the different emotions he could convey in those eyes.

“No.” He said grudgingly. Although Blaine was missing the point entirely.

“Thank you. Now, _as I was saying,_ I called you so that I could thank you properly. In person.” He paused, looking lost again. “So thank you.”

“You're welcome. I'm glad I could help.” Kurt said. He wasn't sure if a hug would be appropriate. Or perhaps they could shake hands. It was hard to know where the boundaries were when you'd seen someone at their very worst within the first seconds of meeting them.

“Okay, well, see you.” Blaine made his mind up for him, not allowing for any sort of physical contact. He whirled around and took off across the street before Kurt could finish dithering awkwardly.

A car honked angrily as it narrowly missed hitting him.

“Blaine!” Kurt yelled.

“Accident.” Blaine called back, holding up both hands and walking backwards as he reached the pavement (and safety) on the other side. “I promise.”

Kurt scoffed, looked both ways, and jogged across after him. Blaine was staring at him in surprise.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Following you.” Kurt told him. He stood in front of Blaine on the pavement, and looked up and down the street. “So which way are we going?”

“You really don't need to come with me.” Blaine sighed, scratching nervously at the back of his neck.

“I know I don't. But I want to make sure you're okay.”

“I told you. I'm fine now.” He backed away a couple steps and then, when Kurt only raised an eyebrow, turned to walk away.

“I don't think you are.” Kurt said stubbornly, picking up the pace to catch up and then falling into step beside him.

Blaine's eyes were sparkling with tears as they passed under a streetlight. He blinked repeatedly, looking the other way and setting his jaw.

“I need to stay with you for a bit until I know you'll be okay. Are you going to seek some help?” Kurt probed gently.

“Seeking 'help' isn't going to change anything that's happening to me right now.”

“What _is_ happening?”

Blaine shook his head rapidly.

“You don't have to tell me.” Kurt said quickly. “I just hoped we could talk about this. D-don't you see now that there's a chance to change things? To change whatever's happening? Aren't you relieved you didn't jump?”

“Yeah. I can see how stupid I was going to the bridge.” Blaine mulled over slowly. Kurt felt momentarily hopeful. “Should have gone somewhere else. Somewhere with less people to push their noses in. Like up there.”

He was staring up at the multi-storied apartment block jutting above the other buildings in the skyline.

“When's your birthday, Blaine?” Kurt asked, heart thudding at the thought of their deal. He swore to himself he'd do everything he could to fulfil his promise, even if it was one he'd never intended to make.

Blaine just laughed, and the sound was bitter. Kurt got the feeling that his laugh could have been beautiful if it wasn't so tinged with weariness.

“I'm staying up at this hotel.” He said instead of answering, nodding to the building at the end of the block. They passed another Church, and Kurt felt Blaine slow again, looking up at it. “Hey, that spire's really something. Nice and sharp. Could have jumped right onto that. Had it plunge through my stomach. Or my heart.”

Kurt side-eyed him for a moment, watching Blaine chew on his lower lip. His mouth was curved in an almost-smile, and Kurt realized something. He was trying to make a joke, trying to diffuse the tension.

“You have a pretty sick sense of humour.” He told him.

“Thankfully the hospital didn't think so.” Blaine quipped.

“How _did_ you convince them to let you go?” Kurt asked. The shadow of the Church was making him feel small, and he wanted to hurry them onward, but Blaine seemed content to stare at it.

“I charmed them with my stunning smile, my boyish charm, and my wide-eyed wonderment.” He responded, still straight-faced.

“ _Right.”_ Kurt dead-panned. “Because you're just sparkling with a passion for everything around you.”

Blaine suddenly turned to face him. He regarded him for a moment, clearly trying to make a decision. Then, abruptly, right before Kurt's eyes, Blaine transformed with a grin that split his face in half and displayed practically all of his teeth. The smile radiated pure joy; vitality and positivity.

Kurt blinked, astounded. He wanted to see that smile on Blaine's face all the time.

Or, even better, he wanted to make Blaine's eyes light up as well, so that he could see what this man looked like when he wasn't simply playing at happiness, but actually feeling it. Because it was only his eyes that gave him away. They made it clear the smile was insincere. They looked too dull to match the happiness of the rest of his face.

Still, it was a huge change, and Kurt could only stare, mouth hanging open, as Blaine bounced a little on his heels and started to speak in a tone much brighter than before.

“Oh, but I do want to be alive. I had a bit of a moment, but it was just a moment. I'm fine now. Really.” He turned his gaze to the ground, looking up through his lashes, suddenly sheepish. Kurt wasn't breathing. “I'm sorry for causing such a huge scene. I didn't want to worry people. I just had to see what it felt like, standing there. It was a moment of madness. Just a moment. But it's gone now. It passed. I swear.”

And then the grin dropped away as quickly as it had sprung up.

“That's pretty much what I told them. In a nutshell.” Blaine pressed his lips together, looking jaded again, waiting for Kurt's reaction.

“Yeah. O-okay.” Kurt stammered a little. “You're kind of adorable and a very good actor. But that doesn't change the fact that you _lied._ And you used the stuff I said about moments. That's unfair.”

“What you said was really good, of course I used it.” Blaine shrugged, and started walking again.

“So where do you live normally, if you're staying in a hotel?”

“Well, recently I've been based in Westerville.” Blaine said.

“Did you come into Columbus just to...?”

“Of course not. There are perfectly good bridges everywhere else.”

“So why did you come here?” Kurt asked.

There was a pause.

“Here we are!” Blaine came to an abrupt stop. “This is the hotel. So I guess it's time to say goodbye.”

“What?” Kurt said. “Of course not. I'm coming in with you.”

“You're _what?”_ Blaine asked.

“I'm coming with you. I meant what I said. I'm helping you. I keep my promises thank you _very_ much.” He hadn't meant to sound so snooty about it, but he was feeling instantly snappish at the very idea of abandoning Blaine.

“My birthday is two weeks away.”

Kurt didn't miss a step, but it took everything in him to look unaffected by this news. He'd been expecting something close to six months. Not two weeks.

His companion was silent as he waited for a response, opening the door to the hotel. Kurt followed Blaine inside, thinking fast.

“That's doable.” He said. Because it was. He really believed it was possible to change a life in two weeks (after all, hadn't his life been changed in a single night?). It was just that he would really _really_ have preferred to have more time.

“Really?” Blaine was skeptical.

“Yup.” Kurt smiled tentatively at him. “I'll use up my vacation days and spend the next couple of weeks just helping you out.”

“I'd rather be alone.” He replied.

“So you can kill yourself?”

“Shhh, shut up. Oh my god.” Blaine glanced around the empty lobby, terrified Kurt's words would be picked up by someone else. When he realized that the only other person in the room was a woman listening to music at the desk, he relaxed a little. “You don't even have any of your stuff so you can't stay.”

“Actually, my car is parked a block away and I packed an overnight bag. Just in case.”

“I see.”

For a long time, Blaine stared at him.

“Let's get it then.” He sighed. “Since you're going to be stalking me anyway. You may as well be comfortable in the process.”

“It's not stalking.” Kurt reminded him softly as they made their way out of the hotel and down the road. “We made a deal.”

Blaine was stubbornly silent until they reached the hotel again.

He held the door open for Kurt this time, and then followed him into the elevator.

“You really don't have to come with me.”

“I want to though.” Kurt said, not entirely truthfully. He sort of half wanted to turn the other way and continue hiding from the world in his apartment.

So Blaine shrugged and pressed the button for the top floor.

The doors opened to an elegant hallway, and Blaine brought them to a stop right outside one of only two doors, swiping a card to open the penthouse room called the _Pavarotti Suite._

As soon as they entered the main part of the suite, Kurt could smell flowers. Though the whole place was elegantly furnished and decorated with a beautiful colour scheme even he could approve of, Blaine had clearly put in the effort to make it even better. Through a set of open double doors, Kurt could see that the huge bed in the next room was covered in rose petals. An ice bucket with a bottle of champagne rested atop the pillows, two glasses nestled neatly beside it. Out in the main room where they stood, there was a bouquet of more roses and a beautiful (completely cold and untouched) romantic dinner on the table. The candles littering every surface had long since gone out.

Blaine looked around as if the whole place offended him and made him want to cry at the same time. He walked quickly to the table and grabbed a folded piece of paper from the centre.

“Is that your suicide note?” Kurt asked.

Blaine winced at the word.

“Would you rather I said something else?”

“How about 'Goodbye, Blaine. It was nice to meet you'?” Blaine responded sharply, tugging off his hoodie to reveal a tight t-shirt and throwing it to the ground before slumping into a plush couch, tipping his head back, and shutting his eyes.

Kurt stared for a moment, taking him in. Blaine really was attractive. He had noticed it on the bridge, but it was only really sinking in properly now. Splayed casually over the furniture, he almost looked like a model (although he could have done with jeans rather than sweatpants). Still, despite the sweats, with his long lashes spread against his cheeks, his full lips parted, and his muscular arms subtly bulging under the black t-shirt, he was nothing short of beautiful.

“What?” Blaine asked suddenly, opening his eyes and shifting self-consciously. Kurt realized he was staring and he instantly felt heat rise to his cheeks.

“Nothing.” He said. “Sorry. Can I read the note?”

“Maybe later.” Blaine's face became stony.

“Why don't you throw it away?”

“It's a memento of my time in Columbus.”

“You aren't funny.” Kurt said automatically, like he would say to Finn.

“Oh joy. Another thing to add to the list of things I'm not good at.”

Kurt watched him for a moment, trying to figure him out. Blaine tipped his head back against the couch cushions and shut his eyes again. He absently turned his note over and over in his hands.

“Were you expecting someone to join you tonight?” Kurt asked suddenly, wanting the reasons behind the roses and champagne in the other room.

“I always arrange champagne and roses for the gorgeous men that rescue me from bridges.” Blaine delivered his next joke, not even opening his eyes.

Kurt knew it was wrong of him, but he couldn't help smugly rejoicing inside that Blaine had called him gorgeous.

“Sorry, I meant last night.” Kurt amended. “Were you expecting someone last night?”

Despite the layer of confidence Blaine covered himself in, Kurt was pretty sure that it was only a shield to mask his real feelings; probably the only thing preventing him from falling apart right then and there. His theory was confirmed with the way Blaine's jaw clenched.

Suddenly, he sprung up from the couch and pulled open the cupboard under the TV to reveal a mini-bar.

“I don't think alcohol is a good idea.” Kurt said slowly.

“I could be getting a soft drink.” Blaine protested, shooting Kurt a wounded look that made him feel guilty. For about two seconds. Because Blaine emerged with a beer clasped in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“I don't really want any.” Kurt said as he watched him pour the first glass.

Despite disapproving of alcohol in Blaine's current mental state, Kurt didn't comment further as the other man shrugged and took the glass for himself. But he did notice that Blaine's hands were shaking. They made the bottle clink against the glass. Blaine seemed relieved to set it aside and fold his legs under himself on the couch again, turning his drink around in his hands.

“My boyfriend.” Blaine said out of nowhere.

“What about him?” Kurt asked.

In the back of his mind, he quietly filed away the fact that Blaine was gay, or at least not straight. It wasn't exactly a surprise, but he'd never really consciously considered the possibility, and he could feel a faint blush spreading across his cheeks at the news. Not that he really knew why. He'd met plenty of other gay men without _blushing_ after all.

More prominently, however, Kurt felt concern clench at his heart as he wondered if, having to put up with living in _Ohio_ , his sexuality might have been one of the reasons that Blaine had ended up on the bridge the night before.

“That's who I was expecting last night. My boyfriend is- was- the reason I was in the main part of Columbus last night. The reason I'm staying in a hotel. I wanted to surprise him.” Blaine clarified. “He said I'd been distant lately, not as attentive, not as connected and happy as before. I think he was worried about me when I first started... changing. But lately he'd been more annoyed. He told me I'm 'not even present when we're talking'. Something along those lines. He said we needed to talk properly soon and so I - I came to fix things.”

“So you were trying to rescue a relationship.” Kurt summarised, trying to piece things together. “What happened?”

“He was with another guy.” Blaine's jaw clenched again. “Down in a beautiful restaurant somewhere near here. Said he was going out with a few friends, and since he had no idea I wasn't busy, told me the name of the place. I was going to meet him there and- and he wasn't exactly with a _few_ friends. Just the one more-than-a-friend.”

“Are you sure they weren't just friends?”

“I'm sure.” Blaine said. “They kissed across the table and they were holding hands. Didn't even see me walk in...”

Kurt winced sympathetically.

“The worst thing is that I introduced them.” Blaine continued, shaking his head. “The other guy was one of my _best friends_ , Hunter Clarington. Our fathers knew each other and we kind of grew up together. We went to the same schools and everything.”

“What did you do when you found them?” Kurt asked.

“Confronted them. They didn't deny it. Told me they were waiting for the right time to break the news. Tried to say sorry.” He shrugged, looking anywhere but directly at Kurt.

“And then?”

“I left looking like a pathetic fool.”

“You didn't hit Hunter or anything?”

“What, and make myself look even worse?” Blaine asked. “No, I knew what I had to do.”

“Commit suicide?”

“Please don't use that word.”

“I'm sorry.” Kurt raked a hand through his hair, and quickly dropped it to his lap as he reminded himself he was trying to break that habit.

Blaine shook his head and stood up, striding across to the glass doors that led out onto a small balcony. Kurt was sure there was a lot more to the situation than his boyfriend cheating on him with one of his best friends. He figured that had been more of a tipping point in an already volatile situation.

“I assume you _do_ want to stay the night.” Blaine said abruptly, jerking Kurt out of his thoughts.

“I hope that's okay?” Kurt said, like it was a question.

“It might be a good idea.” Blaine allowed.

There was an awkward stretching silence. Kurt wondered if he should keep asking more questions. But he was so tired now. Perhaps it would be good for them both to get some sleep. After such an intense day, the insomnia he'd developed over the last few months might even alleviate somewhat and allow him some rest.

“You can take the bed.” Blaine said. “I'll sleep on the couch.”

“Oh, no, it's your room. I don't mind-”

“I'd rather not go back in there.” He added.

“Oh.” Kurt swallowed, biting his lip as he stood. “Okay then. Goodnight.”

“Mm,” Blaine hummed, not turning around. He was opening another cupboard just outside the bathroom and pulling out a spare blanket.

Kurt took hold of his bag and dragged it through to the bedroom, leaving the door open so that he could keep an eye on the other inhabitant of the suite. He didn't like leaving him alone in the room with the balcony.

After he unzipped his bag, Kurt pulled out the pair of pajamas he'd hastily stuffed inside after they're arranged to meet and straightened up. Through the door, he caught sight of Blaine reaching up to tug off his t-shirt.

Absent-mindedly, Kurt stood there in the doorway and watched, fascinated by the dimples in the bottom of Blaine's spine, and the way his surprisingly broad shoulders tapered away into such a small waist. His skin was an expanse of soft caramel in the light and he had a small birthmark at the top of his back.

Blaine tossed his t-shirt to the ground alongside his hoodie and leaned down to shift a small box onto the pile. He stared at the crumpled clothes for a while, and then folded himself onto the couch again, unfolding the spare blanket and spreading it over himself. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Then, suddenly, he spoke.

“Enjoying the view?”

Kurt let out a barely audible yelp, and almost tripped over. His face turned scarlet instantly. He cast his eyes down to the ground and huffed out an indignant noise through his nose at the sound of Blaine's short bark of laughter.

“I think you could do with better lighting to be honest. I can barely appreciate the view in half darkness.” He said as sarcastically as possible. Blaine came close to laughing again, his breath rushing out of him quickly.

Kurt rolled his eyes, though Blaine wasn't even looking at him, and backed into his room again. He changed his own clothes and then ducked into the bathroom to get ready before climbing onto the extravagant bed. The two champagne glasses clinked behind him, and he turned in time to see half-melted ice drip from the bucket holding the bottle. Kurt sighed and reached for it, moving it onto the side table and shaking the rose petals onto the ground. He spotted a note card on the top of the pillow and picked it up.

_For my charming Fiancé. I love you._

_Blaine._

It was written in elegant handwriting. Kurt ran a thumb over the edge, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place as he remembered the box he'd seen Blaine throw onto his pile of clothes. He hadn't just come out to repair his relationship. He'd come to propose.

With that knowledge, he turned down the covers and climbed into bed.

Once, Kurt had believed that the night he broke up with Adam had been the longest of his life. He was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

Kurt couldn't sleep. It wasn't exactly unusual for him, but it still pissed him off. For a few hours he just lay there with his eyes closed and let his body rest while his mind wandered. He was used to that method, and it at least allowed him to feel less exhausted than he otherwise would have.

Since he'd first realized that his relationship with Adam was going downhill, he'd struggled with fully slipping into unconsciousness. So he had long since perfected the art of sleeping without really sleeping.

He still remembered all those nights lying in bed beside his boyfriend. They'd been together so many years, and Kurt couldn't quite believe he was feeling so unsure about their relationship. When it had started out, he'd been so happy, exhilarated by the attention and the confidence that was growing in him at the time. He'd really liked Adam. Still did. Just not in the same way.

He had always spent those strange half-dreamlike hours vaguely longing to be single, or even, in his least guarded moments, longing to be with someone else.

Even if Kurt hadn't openly acknowledged the dissatisfaction within himself until the night he met Dave, in those sleepless hours he'd considered all their problems. He went over everything in his head and tried to plan solutions, always skirting around the fact that he and Adam weren't really that well suited for one another.

In the end, he'd be practically fantasizing about himself fulfilling other dreams, thriving and free and happy.

Now, as he lay awake in the _Pavarotti Suite,_ Kurt felt his new worries piling up the same way that his old worries used to, keeping him from fully drifting off. They seemed to slink slowly down to him in the darkness; the awkward loss of several friends following his split from Adam; the absence of Adam himself, which was sad in many ways because he really had been a solid part of Kurt's life for so long; the fact that everyone at work was angry with him; the image of Dave Karofsky in his hospital bed kept alive by machines; the concern that he, Kurt Hummel, might actually be alone forever; and the fact that he was sleeping one room over from a stunning suicidal stranger who was waiting to kill himself on his twenty-fifth birthday. Two weeks away. Only two weeks.

Feeling a nervous flutter of panic against his ribcage, Kurt pushed back the covers and sat up. He went to check on Blaine again.

The light of the television flickered colors across the room, but it was on mute. Despite that, there was music coming from somewhere, and a glance at Blaine's sleeping figure revealed that it was playing off his phone. It took Kurt as second to place _A Whole New World_ from Aladdin. As he stood and listened, closing his eyes to take in the familiar words, the song ended and changed to Mulan's _Reflection._ It was clear Blaine had decided to listen to something nostalgic before passing out on the couch. Kurt stared at the changing light from the TV on his face for a moment, brow creased in thought, and then turned to the kitchenette at the end of the room.

He glanced at the wasted dinner on the table and then after a little rummaging in the cupboards, turned on the kettle, resigning himself to instant coffee.

“Don't you ever sleep?” Blaine's voice called from the couch. Kurt jumped.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” He felt instantly guilty.

“Nah, but the kettle did.” Blaine replied, scooting up into a sitting position, hunched into his blanket. He used one hand to reach for his phone. “I don't usually sleep much anyway, though. So you're all good.”

The music stopped as Blaine switched it off.

“Disney?” Kurt asked with a warm smile.

“Yeah.” Blaine replied, flattening his hair with one hand as he yawned. When he looked back up at Kurt, biting his lip, he seemed a little more engaged with his surroundings. “You know you can't watch me constantly. You have to sleep sometime.”

“I know.” Kurt said, unwilling to confess to his persistent insomnia. “But I thought I'd rather be in here with you. There are two couches after all.”

“You don't have to do that.” Blaine's voice was very quiet. He stared down at his lap.

Kurt couldn't help the protectiveness that rose in him at the sight of how _small_ Blaine looked like that, all curled up under a single blanket. He did seem to have a habit of folding in on himself, or sitting on his legs or folding his arms or ducking his head.

“I want to though.”

Blaine looked up. His eyes were misty with tears, but other than that, he didn't really look tired. He just looked very handsome. What an asshole.

“I'm not going to jump off the balcony you know.”

“But you've thought about it.” Kurt countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course. I've thought of a whole plethora of ways I could kill myself in this room. That's what I do.” Blaine shrugged. “Like you said last night, I guess it's become kind of a habit.”

Kurt watched him for a moment.

“I could set myself on fire.” Blaine offered. Something in his tone suggested he was trying to make this another joke, and Kurt went with it, aware by now that Blaine used humour to deflect his issues into a more manageable emotion.

“There's an extinguisher by the sink.” Kurt said. “I'd put you out.”

“Shattered a glass and cut-”

“Only plastic cups here. Good imitations but not real glass.”

“Or a mirror.”

“No,” Kurt considered. “I'd hear the mirror break and I'd stop you.”

“Could have used my razor in the bathroom.”

“Already took it away.”

“Drowned in the bath.” Blaine said. “Oh! Or taken the hairdryer for a bath with me.”

“The hotel doesn't have a hairdryer.”

“Okay then, I could use the kettle.”

“That piece of crap can barely heat water.” Kurt scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

He didn't miss the way Blaine almost smiled.

“As for the cutlery, it can barely cut fruit. It wouldn't break the skin.” Kurt added, nodding toward the bowl on the coffee table.

“Thought I'd keep that one to myself.” Blaine said, staring at it.

“And the vase? I'd probably hear that breaking as well.” Kurt said finally. Blaine looked up in surprise.

“I hadn't even thought of that.” He admitted curiosity in his voice.

Kurt felt himself flush. He hadn't realized that the average person might not be so good at working out what things in a room could be used to harm oneself. It had been a long time since those thoughts had haunted him – a long time since High School – but he supposed the understanding of that mentality would never really leave a person...

“You think about killing yourself a lot though?” He asked instead of explaining.

“I can't seem to stop myself.” Blaine sighed.

“Well, I guess it isn't necessarily a problem to _think_ about killing yourself at this stage. I understand that it's a coping mechanism. It'll take us a while to get you out of the habit of following those thought patterns. But until then, I think we just need to make sure that it isn't your _only_ coping mechanism. We can find other ways for you to manage your feelings.” Kurt offered a hopeful smile. Blaine didn't quite manage to return it, but he didn't frown either, just looked resigned.

The water finished boiling and Kurt used up one of the instant coffee packets provided to make himself a cup.

“Do you want one?” He asked Blaine, who nodded. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Just sugar please. A couple teaspoons.” Blaine requested.

The silence was actually sort of comfortable as Kurt finished the second coffee and carried them carefully over to the couches. He sat in the one that wasn't currently occupied by Blaine and cradled the warm drink, taking one long blissful sip.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about these thoughts?” Kurt asked.

“No.”

“And you haven't considered therapy?”

“It's not really my thing. I don't like talking about it. Especially to strangers.” Blaine's comment made Kurt shift awkwardly. He was well aware that he counted as a stranger. But then their eyes met and Blaine's expression changed. “Not you though. You don't seem to count as stranger. Not sure why.”

“Well.” Kurt tried not to feel smug. “Maybe seeing a professional would be a good idea.”

“I just saw about six different 'professionals' after the incident last night. Didn't help.”

“I think it would take more than one night, Blaine.” Kurt said. “And you didn't tell them the truth.”

“Yeah, well,” He sighed. “I don't want to.”

“It might be the right way to go.”

“ _You're_ supposed to be the right way to go!” Blaine blurted out. “Isn't that what you said? That you could help me?”

Kurt was stunned by the sudden mood swing. He looked away from the desperation in the other man's eyes.

“I know.” He said gently. “I _will_ help you. I just wondered... What about your boyfriend? Did you ever tell him you were feeling this way?”

“Sebastian? I- well- it's like I said before- he was aware that something was going on with me. He knew I'd changed. But I never told him exactly why. Of course I didn't. That would worry him for no reason.” Blaine seemed certain that it was an impossible option.

“Did he ever try to broach the subject with you? What I mean is, do you think he may have had an idea that you were getting depressed?”

“I don't know.” Blaine grimaced. “I think he never knew how bad it was. He used to ask what was wrong, why I wasn't the same 'bright spark' anymore. But he thought it was about my father and my job. Just normal everyday concerns. He was mad that I wouldn't just talk to him about it.”

“And did your father and your job have anything to do with it?” Kurt asked carefully.

“Of course.”

“Do you want to explain why?”

“My father's a pretty important man. But recently, he got really sick. I had to take leave from my job, which I love, to go and take care of the company while he couldn't. I wasn't bothered by it. After all, it was only supposed to be temporary. He was supposed to get better. But he didn't. He got worse. And the worse he got, the more time I spent away from my other job. A week ago they called me, told me they couldn't afford to keep the position open for me any longer. They had to let me go. And then the day after I found that out, the doctor told us that Dad's illness is terminal. He's never going to recover.”

Blaine's attention was consumed by his coffee mug. He swirled it round and round, watching the ripples and avoiding looking at Kurt again.

“I think I'm starting to get it.” Kurt said. “You lost your job, your Dad, your best friend, and your boyfriend all in one week.”

“Thank you so much for saying that out loud.” Blaine's voice dripped in sarcasm.

“I'm sorry. I only have fourteen days to start helping you out. I don't have time to tip-toe around the big issues.” Kurt said, dread clutching him again.

For some reason fourteen days sounded like far less time than two weeks. And even two weeks had stressed him out.

“Actually, it's thirteen now.” Blaine corrected. “We passed midnight a few hours back.”

Shit.

“You aren't expected to keep the job after your father passes on, are you?”

“That's the problem.” Blaine's eyes returned to his cup. “It's a family business and I'm next in line. So I _am_ kind of expected to.”

Kurt could see the tension piling onto him the more they talked. He took a moment to decide that continuing the topic was actually necessary. He didn't want to stress Blaine out further, but he needed to understand the situation if he was going to be able to help him properly.

“Did you talk to your father about not wanting the job?”

Blaine barked out another short laugh.

“You clearly don't know my family. I get the job whether I want it or not. My older brother already turned it down and I'm the only one left. He'd have been forced to take it too if he wasn't getting rich in his own career path.” He rolled his eyes, and Kurt filed away the topic of 'big brother' to discuss later. “But I honestly would _have_ to take it. It's been in the family generations. Father to father and all that. Too much pressure to ever be able to back out.”

“And there are no other heirs?” Kurt asked. He remembered his own unfounded worry that Burt would expect him to take on the tire store when he grew up. But his father had been very understanding, allowing him to go his own way and follow his own dreams.

“There's my Uncle's son as well.” Blaine didn't look happy.

“Couldn't he take it then?” Kurt asked. “Doesn't that help you?”

“It pretty much screws me over actually.” He replied. “Look, it's pretty complicated and involves years of family shit you don't want to hear.”

It was the first time Kurt had really heard Blaine swear, and he realized immediately that it was a sign of how upset he was. His hands were trembling around the mug in his hands as well. Perhaps it was time to talk about something else.

“Tell me about your other job. The one you love.”

The tension melted from Blaine's shoulders the second the topic changed. When he looked up again, he seemed suddenly curious, even playful.

“What do _you_ think I do?”

Kurt studied him for a moment before making his guess, slightly hesitant.

“An actor, maybe? A model?”

Blaine spluttered, coffee dripping out of his mouth, hands jerking and splashing hot coffee down his front. He unbent his legs from where they had been crossed under him and his feet hit the floor as he set down his cup and scrambled for a tissue from the box on the table.

As he cleaned coffee off his hands, he stared at Kurt.

“Are you joking?”

“I- you- I take it you aren't a model?” Kurt stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed. His cheeks were red again. He could feel it.

“Why would you guess _that_?”

“ _Because._ ”

“Because _what?”_ He was totally astonished.

“Don't tell me no one's even told you that before.”

“No one has!” Blaine had never been so animated.

“Not even your boyfriend?”

“No.” Blaine laughed. It was a beautiful sound. One Kurt wanted to hear again. “He thinks I'm more of a 'bashful schoolboy' than a _model_.”

“You- it's just- You happen to be one of the most attractive men I've ever met in real life so I thought you could be a model.” Kurt tried to reason, still blushing.

Blaine looked at him again now, face a little softer, maybe even embarrassed. He was obviously trying to work out if it was a joke of not. But Kurt had been serious. That just made it all the more mortifying. He hadn't meant for things to slip out quite so _honestly._

“So what _do_ you do?” He tried to reign in the conversation again.

“You'll enjoy the answer.” Blaine smiled.

“Go on.”

“I'm a strip-o-gram.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You know, since I'm so handsome.”

Kurt's laugh burst out of him of its own accord and he didn't miss the pleased look that grew on Blaine's face in response.

“Okay, I'm kidding.” He admitted. “I'm actually a music teacher. I help out with choir and glee club as well.”

Kurt's jaw dropped. He didn't know why he'd never considered it before, but suddenly he could perfectly picture Blaine singing. Perhaps holding a guitar, or sitting at a piano, or even cradling a microphone. His voice would probably be beautiful.

“I told you you'd enjoy it.” Blaine said.

“You know, I used to do glee club in high school.” Kurt said, and he saw Blaine perk up even more. “Well, not exactly _glee club,_ but this sort of singing group.”

“Tell me about it.” He'd never seen Blaine look so engaged, so it took barely a moment of hesitation before he began to expand the story for him.

“Well, our school's official glee club was cancelled when only three people signed up. Just this girl, Rachel, and this guy called Artie, and me. So I thought that option was done for and I'd have to try and work through high school without it. I became friends with Artie because, like me, he was mostly on the outs at school. And we'd seen each other's names on the list and everything. I _kind_ of became friends with Rachel then as well. I think she was under the impression we were closer than we really were.

“We all drifted, were bullied and pushed around a little, but mostly kept a low profile. Then this girl called Quinn, head cheerleader, total bitch at the time, got pregnant by a random jock who wasn't her boyfriend. Rachel and I found her singing one day in the gym after a cheerleading practice. We waited for her to finish the song and then joined her where she was sitting against the back wall. She was resistant to our sympathy at first, trying to act like she was fine, but eventually she agreed to meet us in a week and talk properly.

“We brought Artie along with us. All of us sat together mostly silent for a while, and it was super awkward at first. But then Rachel started small talk and soon we got on to more serious topics. I told them all that I was gay. First time I'd said it out loud. Oddly enough, no one cared. Quinn confessed to being pregnant in return. We all ended up singing together. It was a lot of fun, so we arranged to meet the next week. And then the next.

“After a while her boyfriend at the time, Finn Hudson, the quarterback, joined us. He has an amazing voice and he's such a friendly guy. Then after him, one of the other guys from football, Mike, started coming along. He's the most fantastic dancer.

“All of us started meeting up every week in different places, just singing and talking. It was even more fun than an official club because it was so secret. It felt really special. We all became really close. Nothing bonds you closer than sharing something like that, hiding it from the whole school, having that one group to whom you can share anything. We met about once a week, and started hanging out at each other’s houses after school when we could...”

Kurt stopped then, worried he was boring Blaine, although the other man's face had been lit with curiosity the whole time he'd been speaking.

“So you managed your own singing club just like that?” Blaine sounded amazed. It seemed like he actually wanted to hear more. “And you kept the entire school from figuring it out?”

“Uh huh. I guess it helped that Rachel had a stage in her basement. So when we had sleepovers there we could use it. And the auditorium at school was hardly ever occupied. We'd always sneak in and try things out on the stage after hours.”

“Didn't you guys ever fight?”

“God yes. All the time. But we got past it. I mean, crazy shit did happen. Finn found out he wasn’t the father of the baby like Quinn originally told him, so they had a bit of a falling out. He didn't forgive her for a long time. And around the same time, Rachel – she's always known she was adopted - found her birth mother. Things were a little intense in the midst of that. But then when Quinn had the baby, Rachel's mom ended up adopting it, and Quinn and Finn and Rachel all made up. It was kind of perfect.”

“So did Quinn and Finn keep dating?” Blaine asked, genuinely interested.

“No. They split up for good. But Finn and Rachel started dating the year after. In the end, Quinn was okay with it. She says they're cute together. She was really happy being single for the rest of High School.”

“Were they the only couple?”

“Yeah. The rest of us four were just friends. I never had a boyfriend in high school and that just leaves Mike and Artie, who kept to themselves. It was actually really nice for me to have so many male friends, because up until that point it had only ever been girls.”

“Where are they all now?” Blaine said. “Do they live nearby? Are Finn and Rachel still together?”

“Well Finn and Rachel are married. They have the sweetest little girl called Elphie.”

“And the others?”

“Quinn's still living nearby. Her mother got really sick recently and she mostly looks after her. They own a bookstore. Mike pursued his dancing passion and he's doing _so well_ with it right now. And Artie's at film school. He's in his last year now since he stayed to do extra studies for a few years. And he's kind of a ladies' man. Which, if you knew Artie, you'd find really weird.” He scrunched up his nose, thinking over the things he'd missed.

Blaine was watching him curiously, seemingly absorbing all of the new information.

“Oh! And junior year was also the year that my Dad fell in love with Finn's mom. I introduced them, since they both had dead spouses, and since Finn was already feeling like a brother as a result of our secret club. I thought I'd like to become official family as well. I never regretted it. They're kind of perfect together.” He couldn't help beaming as he thought about his father and Carole.

Blaine was nodding along.

“That sounds like a movie.”

Kurt sighed fondly, rolling his eyes.

“Like I said, a lot of drama. It all bonded us pretty close in the end though. I couldn't have asked for better friends, even if we had to keep our friendship a total secret to the greater population of McKinley High. We're all really close still. You'll probably meet them sometime.”

“I'd really love that.” Blaine said, completely sincere. Kurt smiled warmly. He felt like he'd passed some significant sort of test. Or perhaps Blaine had.

“Since we're doing back-story,” he said after a moment. “You should tell me about your brother.”

“Cooper?” Blaine chuckled, shaking his head. “Where do I even begin with him?”

“What's the big job he's doing?”

“He's an actor. He always wanted to be. Ever since we were kids Dad paid for all sorts of lessons and extra-curriculars. Whatever we wanted. And Cooper always took acting classes and singing and things like that. Mind you, so did I. But Coop was always very exuberant about it. It was the attention he loved as much as the performing itself. He's done advertisements and things. He did, uh, the freecreditratingtoday.com ads.”

“You're kidding!” Kurt gasped.

“Why?”

“Your brother is Cooper Anderson.”

“Yes, why? How do you know him?”

Kurt was blushing again. He felt like it happened frequently around Blaine.

“I was really into him in high school. That jingle was – oh god this is embarrassing – it was my ringtone for a very long time.” He sighed, burying his face in his hands. “Oh god. That sounds so stupid.”

“That's adorable.” Blaine was still grinning. “Don't be embarrassed. If it makes you feel any better, I bet I would have been so jealous if I'd known you at the time.”

Kurt blinked at him, trying to make sense of the comment.

“How come?”

“Ah, I was always jealous of Cooper.” Blaine grimaced. “Still am sometimes. It's not really something you get over. He was always so bright and carefree and confident. Dad liked – likes him better as well. He was good at getting attention, and being popular, and all of those things I couldn't quite achieve. I was just as enthusiastic, but in a very different way. And I was more fragile than Cooper.”

“And what's he doing now that's stopping him from taking the company?” Kurt asked.

“He has a big movie deal. They're filming all over Europe before heading to _New Zealand_ to do things on location.” Blaine shrugged, looking a little more solemn now. “No way he could inherit the company with all of that going on. So it falls to me. Even though I wanted it even less than Cooper did.”

“I'm sorry.” Kurt said, reaching for his hand across the table on instinct. For a moment, Blaine stared at the pale fingers closing around his own, and then he turned his palm over and hooked their hands together.

“It's not your fault.” He said. “And besides, that's not the only problem surrounding the whole company issue.”

“Tell me.” Kurt prompted when he fell silent again.

“This feels like a therapy session.”

“Yes, well since you won't see one, I'm the next best thing.”

“My uncle was supposed to get the company. Not my Dad. But he's kind of an asshole and totally irresponsible and selfish. So when Granddad died he was very careful to make sure it was my father that inherited everything. The family kind of... split. Some people agreed that Uncle Wilson should have got the job. Some people agreed that Dad was the best choice for the good of the company's future. It took a long time to resolve the tension enough for anyone to tolerate each other. The problem is that if I don't take the job, then my cousin, Uncle Wilson's son, will get it. And I'm not sure if I can turn my back on something like that and watch those same grievances bubble up again. It's a matter of loyalty. You- you can't know how hard that is.” He swallowed. “Not being able to find the strength to leave something, even something that makes you miserable, because you're too closely tied to it.”

“I left my boyfriend three months ago.” Kurt said without thinking, because he completely understood the sort of emotional dilemma Blaine was describing, even if his version of it had been very different. “We'd been together since college.”

“What did he do?”

“He was a working as a waiter while he looked for a job.” He answered. “Why?”

“No. I mean, why did you leave him?” Blaine corrected.

“We- I realized that we weren't good for each other anymore. The relationship made us both feel trapped, not happy. I don't know if he was fully aware of it yet, but I could tell he felt stifled sometimes. And god knows I did.”

“So you just left him? You didn't talk to him first? Try to work things out?”

Kurt knew Blaine was thinking about Sebastian.

“I explained things the night we broke up” He tried to make him understand

“You just left him.”

“I had to weigh up the risks.” He kept his tone measured, not wanting to become unstable when he was supposed to be the strong one. “Together we would have ended up miserable for the rest of our lives. He'll get over me. He'll get over me quicker than he thinks.”

“And what if he doesn't? You were together a long time.”

Kurt didn't know how to respond. He felt like the conversation had taken entirely the wrong direction. He was only making Blaine more upset.

“He will.” He said eventually.

“I think you're underestimating how hard it must be to get over you.” Blaine said carefully, looking at him with his brow furrowed.

“Of course not. I _know_ Adam. He'll be okay in the end.”

Blaine nodded slowly, seeming reluctant to accept it.

He sat back in his chair and disappeared. It wasn't that he left the room, but instead he just vanished into his own mind, thinking hard. Kurt was sure it was Sebastian occupying his thoughts, and he wished he could help. But it suddenly occurred to him that if Sebastian felt about Blaine the way he had felt about Adam, then Blaine didn't have a hope of getting back together with him. He shied away from those thoughts quickly. Blaine was vastly different from Adam. The situation couldn't be the same.

“What do you do?” Blaine asked suddenly, after several minutes had passed in silence.

“What do you think I do?” Kurt parroted his own words back at him.

“You work in a Charity shop?” He guessed.

Kurt looked down at his clothes, utterly confused. They may have just been pajamas, but they were _designer_ pajamas and very expensive at that.

“I don't mean your clothes.” Blaine smiled. “It's more that you're the caring type. You look after people. Even random strangers on bridges. Maybe you're a vet or something? Do you work at an animal shelter?”

Kurt couldn't help the pleased grin on his face. It wouldn't go away. He cleared his throat.

“I actually work for a fashion magazine.”

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. He tipped his head to one side and smiled again.

“I see. I should have guessed.” He gestured toward him. “I've only seen a few of your outfits but they're rather impeccable.”

Kurt could feel his face growing hot again. He tried not to preen at the compliment, but Blaine noticed the smug tilt to his smile and laughed. Kurt childishly stuck out his tongue (making him laugh even harder). Pretending to be upset, pouting, he grabbed the empty mugs off the table and made his way to the kitchen area at the end of the room.

Behind him, Blaine laughter slowly faded away into nothing. When Kurt looked back over his shoulder, he saw that even the smile had disappeared from his face. He was staring out of the window again, shoulders hunching with sadness.

Kurt became very aware that they only had thirteen days left.

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Kurt could have sworn he hadn't slept the whole night. But suddenly he was sitting up straight on the couch, rather abruptly in the light of a sunrise when it had been night-time seemingly seconds ago.

He looked across to the other couch and started when he realized that it was empty. Blaine's blanket was lying over his own lap, and the man himself was nowhere to be found.

Kurt jumped to his feet, his heart instantly picking up speed in his moment of panic. He flung himself round the corner to the bedroom, finding it empty, and banging his elbow on the door in the process.

Without really thinking about it too much, he shoved open the bathroom door.

And came face to face with a rather exceptionally well-formed, generously proportioned, round ass.

Blaine twisted his upper body around to see Kurt, the muscles in his back flexing in the most fascinating way and changing the direction of the rivulets of water running down his coppery skin. His curls were flattened to his head, and his face was flushed and rather surprised.

“Don't worry. I'm alive.” He said, amusement colouring his voice.

“Sorry.” Kurt said, stumbling over himself to get out.

The door slammed shut behind him.

He leaned against the other side and buried his face in his hands, suppressing an awkward giggle and trying to tune out the sound of Blaine's muffled laughter.

It took him a moment to compose himself (it should not – did not – matter that Blaine's body was the most captivating thing he'd seen in months, not to mention the fact that his ass was probably the nicest ass Kurt had ever had the pleasure of viewing in person) and push away from the door again. He unzipped his overnight bag and pulled out the day's outfit, ready to make himself presentable.

After twenty minutes, Kurt was finished, and the water was still falling steadily in the bathroom. He set about repacking his bag more neatly, and then stacked all of Blaine's things into neat piles on the bed as well, so it would be easier for him to pack his own bag. The shower still hadn't stopped.

Kurt paced nervously in front of the door, wondering if it was worth walking in on him again. On the one hand, he really needed to know that Blaine was safe. On the other hand, it would make him seem thoroughly creepy.

It was just as he placed a hand against the door that he heard it. A stifled sob. A sound so full of agony that it made his heart leap into his throat. Kurt rested his head against the door. He listened to the longing and hurt and pain in those unceasing sounds as they increased in volume and frequency. Tears began to pour down his own face.

He wished more than anything he could find some way to help.

It was then that Kurt remembered the suicide note. The one Blaine had told him he could read “later”. He figured that now was as good a time as any. That one piece of paper had the potential to provide so much more insight to the reasons behind Blaine's deep seated depression. It could possibly give Kurt just the right tools to be able to help him.

He hovered for a second; staring at the clothes he'd just folded on the bed. The note would be with the hoodie from the night before.

Kurt began to search the pockets. It didn't take him long to find the crumpled bit of paper. Biting his lip, he flattened it carefully in shaky hands.

It was quickly clear that the note in his hands was not a suicide note. It was a proposal speech. The scribbled lines of carefully chosen phrases were practically poetry, crossed out and reworded over and over to make sure they were perfect. It was the most romantic thing Kurt had ever come across outside of a movie.

Suddenly, the phone on the bed beside him started ringing on low volume. He recognized the song as _Uptown Girl_ and curiously reached for it, wondering who could be calling Blaine so early in the morning.

As he turned it right way up, the phone stopped ringing and the screen spelled out the declaration that Blaine had _seventeen missed calls._ Kurt stared for a moment and, before he could do anything else, it began to ring again.

_Incoming call from: Sebastian_

In his moment of shock, Kurt automatically answered the phone.

…

Sebastian and Kurt were halfway through their conversation when the bathroom door opened again. Blaine stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still dripping down his freshly shaven face (which gave Kurt a moment of anxiety as he realized that Blaine had taken hisrazor back and it had been in the bathroom the whole time. But it seemed like he'd only used it for its intended purpose).

Their eyes met across the room, and Kurt saw Blaine frown as he recognized the navy blue phone case. He quickly shut down the conversation and ended the call.

“You had seventeen missed calls and it was ringing again. I thought it must have been important.” Kurt explained. “And I've been thinking... this thing we're doing might work best if we both try to be as honest as possible with each other. About everything. We started well last night, and I think it's going to help. We just have to tell each other the truth. No holds barred, okay?”

Blaine stared at him for a little longer, and then finally, he nodded.

“Thank you.” Kurt said. He figured he better do his part to start off the honesty thing and explain what he was doing. “I was just checking to see what your note said. I'm guessing based on that and the card I found with the champagne that you were planning to propose last night?”

“Yes.” Blaine's voice cracked. He looked down at the floor, jaw set.

“I hope you don't mind that I read it?” Kurt was suddenly worried, guilt rising up, because it occurred to him now that Blaine may not have wanted him to find out this way.

“I don't mind. I said I would show you anyway. It's actually easier now that I don't have to build up the courage to say it out loud.”

“Still,” Kurt said. “I'll ask next time. I'm sorry.”

Blaine nodded.

“That was Sebastian on the phone.” He said next, and Blaine eyes darted up to meet his again. “I'm going to tell you exactly what he told me from the start. Please don't think I'm taking his side or anything like that, okay? I'm just repeating it back to you.”

“I know.” The response, and the trust in those words, made Kurt relax a little.

“He was really worried, Blaine.” He began. “He was afraid you might hurt yourself after what you found out last night. Seems to have more of an idea of how bad things have been for you than we thought he did. He told me he's been worried for over a year, and that he thought your feelings stemmed from your brother leaving the country. He says that he tried to make you talk to him, but you only became more distant. That's when he went to Hunter for help. Sebastian fought the way he felt about your friend for a while, and tried to get you to come back to him instead. He wanted 'the old Blaine' back again. He says that it felt like he was losing the man he fell in love with and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He thought you were losing yourself in bitterness and... something about how he can never cope with the idea of taking the world so seriously. He didn't know how to make things better. He also says he wasn't particularly skilled at being a good person without you helping him. He ended up slipping, and he and Hunter became an item.”

Kurt waited for a reaction, but Blaine simply searched his face with that deep frown scarring his brow, wanting to know more.

“After that, when they slept together, he knew he'd crossed a line he couldn't get back over. He wanted to tell you, but things kept happening; your father got sick, you lost your job, and then the illness turned out to be terminal. But in the end, he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. That's why he wanted to meet up with you as soon as possible. He wanted to break the news to you. Only you came out earlier than he thought, and you didn't tell him you'd be around so he didn't know to stay away from Hunter for a while. You found them. He wishes it hadn't happened that way.”

Blaine was simmering as he took it all in. He looked lost and confused and very, very angry. He looked a whisper away from breaking, so hurt yet so furious with the entire world, and probably with himself as well. His anger was a foreign, almost scary thing, because Kurt knew it came from a place of deep sadness, and he was afraid of the way it might express itself if it became too much to bear.

“He seemed put out when I answered the phone.” Kurt continued, trying to sooth. “He said that since high school he'd known you and thought he knew all of your friends. Didn't like the idea of you supposedly keeping one of them a secret. He was jealous.”

The anger seemed to lesson a little, like the tiniest spark of hope had lit to chase off the darkness.

“Did he say what about me had changed? _Why_ did he think I wasn't the same?” Blaine asked. He looked so fragile. Kurt ached all over.

“He said he didn't recognise the vibrant, enthusiastic, spontaneous person you used to be. Said you used to be funny and sweet but you'd become so mournful, unable to let go of your own mistakes, carrying weight with you. He said you'd... lost your spark.” As he spoke, he watched Blaine's eyes filling with tears.

“We can get it back, right?” Blaine asked wetly. “You can help me find my spark again.”

“Of course.” He said. “You're still _you,_ Blaine. Under it all. You are not your illness. We aren't going to let that define you anymore.”

Something stubborn appeared in the nod Blaine gave in return.

Kurt left him to finish getting ready. He waited twenty long minutes, listening to the sound of his companion shuffling around the room next door, supposedly getting dressed and packing his bag, before Blaine appeared in the doorway again.

He wore a fitted black polo with a maroon cardigan and dark wash skinny jeans. His mad curls were smoothed down with gel. It was a small amount, but it seemed significant that he was using it at all, because he paused at the sight of his own reflection in the balcony door behind Kurt and his hand went up to the touch it, a tentative smile on his face.

“You look nice.” Kurt told him, sincere.

“Thank you.” Blaine replied. “I haven't used hair gel in a long time. I mean, I put it in the night I went to propose. But before that I'd been letting it slide. I missed it.”

“I suits you.” Kurt said. “I like the curls too, but they look good tamed.”

Blaine's smile became a little more certain. He dropped his hand back to his side and looked at Kurt again, eyes scanning him up and down.

“You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” He replied. “Now, how about some breakfast?”

…

The all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet in the dining room of the hotel seemed to have an endless supply of delicious food. Most of the guests walked back and forth several times to get extra helpings.

Kurt and Blaine sat at a table in the corner, each cradling a mug of coffee over an empty placemat.

Kurt had lost his appetite around the same time he'd stopped sleeping. He'd just sort of lost interest in food. Of course, he still tried to have three meals a day, but he no longer got properly hungry. He had to _remind_ himself to eat.

“So you don't eat, you don't sleep, and you appreciate nice clothes and Disney music. What else do we have in common?” Blaine asked, a teasing note to his voice.

“Broken relationships?”

“Doesn't count. You left him. He left me.”

“Please don't take me leaving Adam personally.” Kurt felt awful. He wished he'd never brought it up.

“It's hard not to.” Blaine wouldn't look him in the eye, so he decided to change the subject.

“What were you like when your mother passed away? How did you behave?”

Sebastian had shared that detail of Blaine's childhood over the phone. He had disclosed a lot of Blaine's life actually, with an air of believing that Kurt was a long time friend of his who already knew it all.

“Sebastian told you.” Blaine sighed. “I guess I should have known he would do that.”

“I hope you don't mind.”

“No. We agreed on honestly. I would have ended up telling you eventually.”

“So what _were_ you like when your mother passed away?”

“Do we really have to talk about this?” Blaine's lower lip trembled.

“It might help.” Kurt said. “I've been thinking about it and – well – first your mother died, and then your brother left the country, and your father got sick, and your boyfriend left you. I feel like maybe the last thing was just a trigger in something that was already building up. Perhaps there's a lot of pain piling up and that's why it's too much to handle. Maybe when someone leaves you now it connects you to those emotions you had when you were five.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to act like a therapist.” Blaine's eyes were wet again.

“You won't see a real one so I have to try my best.”

That silenced Blaine for a moment. He drained the last of his coffee and then crossed his arms and sat back.

“I was five. Coop was thirteen. Mama got cancer. It was all very sad for everyone, but I didn't fully understand it. I was too young to know why my vibrant mother was suddenly bedridden and weak. I didn't even really know what cancer was. I just knew she was sick and wasn't getting any better. She stayed in the room downstairs and we were only allowed in once a day because she got tired so easily. There was a woman who came back and forth with a doctor's bag. She would ruffle my hair every time she passed. And then one day, she told us that Mama was gone. Coop and I went to the funeral together, stayed with my Aunt for a few days, and then Dad sent us off to boarding school.” He spoke without emotion, totally detached aside from the tears in his eyes and the persistent wobble of his lower lip.

“Your father never talked to you about what was happening?”

“My father doesn't do emotion. He can't look weak.”

“What about your brother? Was he communicative?” Kurt asked, hoping to find a positive side to everything.

“He was at a different school, since he was older, so I didn't actually see him much. We talked on the phone, but not- never about Mama. Coop didn't like me to even mention her. It upset him.”

“Did you make good friends at boarding school?”

“That's where I met Hunter.” He sighed. “Not exactly a happy ending.”

Kurt winced. He wanted to reach for Blaine's hand like he had the night before, but it felt strange now, in the dining room so filled with people.

“Why don't we talk about something that actually matters?” Blaine requested.

“I think that your mother dying when you're only five years old is significant. It matters. It affects your past and your current behaviour. It changes how you deal with things.”

“Unless your mom died when you were a kid, I don't think you can ever understand how I feel right now, Kurt. Let's move on.”

“She did.”

“What?”

“My mom died when I was eight.”

Blaine looked up, surprised.

“That sucks.” He said, face suddenly full of concern. “I'm sorry I said you wouldn't understand.”

“That's okay. You didn't know.”

“So how did it affect you?” Blaine turned the question around. Kurt's blood ran cold at the very idea of talking about his mother's death.

“I'm not the one who tried to kill myself two weeks before I turned twenty-five.” He snapped. “So it doesn't matter.”

He watched the shock cross Blaine's face, and instantly felt guilty.

“I'm sorry.” Kurt groaned. “I'm really sorry. It's a bit of a sore spot. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just don't like talking about it.”

“Nor do I.”

“If you don't want to talk about it, how do you want me to help you?” Kurt asked, genuinely hoping there was a way to do this that they could both feel completely comfortable with. Even if he did believe honesty was the best policy, he also wasn't sure he wanted to force Blaine to talk about the things that hurt him most.

“Where do I even begin with that? Well, my birthday will be on a Saturday, and I really didn't want a party. But they've arranged one. And by 'they' I mean the family and the company and most of all, my father. It's all going to be very fancy and incredibly impressive and I really don't want to go. At all. As well as being my birthday, it's meant to be the day that they announce that I'm going to take over the company.” He spun his mug around in his hand, expression gloomy. “Which I also don't want to do. So the first thing you could help me with is finding a way out of that.”

He sounded like he didn't have a single hope in the world that Kurt could come up with a solution, but the gears in Kurt's head were already turning. He was good at this stuff, skilled at planning for the future.

“And then second of all, if I _have_ to go to the party, I want to do it on Sebastian's arm. That's where I belong and that's how things should be. I _should be_ with him. I don't think I really blame him for leaving me. He was telling the truth when he said I was distant. And I- I know what Hunter's always been like with women. Even though he always said he wasn't even remotely bi-curious, I'm not surprised he was able to turn up the same charm on my boyfriend. It's not Sebastian's fault that he fell for it. He was always such a charmer himself that he probably didn't even notice the same tricks could be turned on him. I can't blame him for falling into Hunter's arms. I want him back.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something; sure that Hunter couldn't deserve _all_ of the blame. He didn't think the way Blaine viewed the situation was entirely healthy. But before he could say anything, the other man was ploughing on.

“And last of all, I want my old job back. I want to teach my kids again. I want the company to get off my back about inheriting Dad's old position because I _can't_ do it. I'd rather _anyone_ else take the job. It just can't be my cousin. Or the whole family will rip itself apart.” He laughed, harsh and bitter all of a sudden, devoid of any hope. “That's how messed up my life is. That's what we have to try and fix. And if we don't, I _swear_ I won’t be able to keep going. I won’t be able to keep living my life. I physically can’t. It’s too _much_. If I can’t fix things, then there’s no reason at all for me to be here. That's the mess you're trying to clean up. That's the pile of _crap_ you're working with. So please, don’t stay here out of pity or- or obligation. I don’t want you mixed up in this if you don’t want to be. It won’t be your fault if I- if we can’t- I just mean it’s _impossible_ and I don’t blame you if you walk away right now. It would be the logical thing to do.”

Kurt waited for him to finish, watching his trembling hand clench around his empty mug. And when the tirade stopped and those watery expressive eyes met his own, his breath caught. There was something desperate and wild and unhinged inside Blaine. He could _feel_ a thread as faint and delicate and spiders web tying them together across the vast churning ocean of Blaine's mind. It could be so easily broken.

It was like everything in Blaine's big dark eyes was just _daring_ Kurt to give up.

And he could easily have done that. He could easily have turned and marched out of the hotel and out of this deal. It certainly would have made his life a lot simpler, to leave Blaine now and admit defeat.

“I’m not leaving you.” Kurt said at last.

He saw shock and disbelief flicker rapidly across Blaine’s face.

“I’m not.” He repeated. “I’m not leaving. I care about you, Blaine, and I understand what I’m getting myself into. It doesn’t matter to me how much work it takes; I want to help you. I’m not leaving you alone.”

“ _It's impossible_.” Blaine said fiercely.

If there was anything he could have said to make Kurt determined to keep going and never _ever_ give up, it was those two words. Because Kurt Hummel was as competitive as they came. He refused to step down from a challenge like that.

“Nothing's impossible.” He said, smile fixing with almost manic certainty on his face. Blaine blinked at him.

“Nothing?”

“Not for me.”

Blaine looked torn between awe, disbelief, and surprise.

Kurt set his coffee aside and slapped his hands down on the table. His whole attitude meant business. He had the face of a man about to take on the world.

“Right. Time to lay down some plans. We leave the hotel tonight. You're staying in my apartment. You'll have to put up with the boxes all over the place, because I refuse to fully move in. Today I need to visit the hospital. Then we're going to a bookstore to pick something up. After that, we drop in on my father and explain why I haven't answered my phone in two days. He lives out in Lima so we'll be doing a lot of driving to get there and back to Columbus again. Then we need to go by my office with some baking and beg my boss to give me two weeks’ vacation effective immediately. She owes me, because I haven't ever used up all my vacation days since I started working there, and I do _so much_ work for her.” He took a moment to breathe. “That should be enough for one day, don't you think?”

Blaine looked overwhelmed, but he nodded obediently. He seemed relieved that Kurt hadn't left him yet.

“Come on then, let's check out of here and go.”

Kurt nudged him gently to his feet and swept them both out the door.

…

When they were inside Kurt's car, his phone beeped.

“That's the third time this morning.” Blaine said.

“I know.”

“Why haven't you answered yet?”

“I already know who it is.” Kurt shrugged, flicking on his turn signal and not making eye contact.

“Who is it?” Blaine asked.

“It's my ex-boyfriend.” He said, voice quiet.

“Oh.” Blaine said. “How do you know?”

“He's been leaving roughly two messages every day since we first broke up. Always at around eight a.m.”

“What about?”

Kurt grimaced. He really didn't want to go into detail.

“I thought we agreed no secrets. That works both ways, right?” Blaine looked concerned, and so it didn't feel like Kurt was actually giving up much when he conceded and handed his phone over.

A little apprehensive, Blaine took it. He turned it over in his palm and then navigated to Kurt's voicemail, holding the phone to his ear as if it might bite him. It was almost endearing, except Kurt was too embarrassed by the thought of what he was about to hear to actually notice it properly.

Blaine listened closely to all three messages.

He handed the phone back in silence. Kurt took it as he pulled to a stop at the traffic lights, waiting for a reaction.

“That was definitely your ex-boyfriend.” Blaine said carefully. “He says he's keeping the painting of the lake you used to have above your bed. He also wants you to give back three of the CDs he gave you. And probably more. I think he's preparing a list.”

“Was that all?” Kurt asked, sounding worn out. He was used to the messages, but that didn't mean he liked them. Every morning, Adam seemed to think of something new that he wanted to keep, or take back. He was trying his hardest to gain control over the breakup his boyfriend had sprung on him. Kurt still found it baffling how he could go from being such a sweet person to being so bitter in such a short time.

“In the third message, he called you a bitch fifteen times.” Blaine's lips twitched like he might smile. “I didn't count. He did. He said you were a bitch multiplied by fifteen and then he rattled off the word fifteen times.”

Kurt tucked the phone back into his pocket and sighed. He had no idea why Adam hadn't given up yet. Kurt had never entered into any conflict with him, always returning the things he wanted and trying to be amicable in the hopes that things would become easier for both of them. Yet Adam was still pursuing his weird form of revenge and acting so out of character. He didn't even _like_ the painting of the lake above their bed. It had been a gift from Artie, bought from some pretentious peer at his film school. Adam had complained about its existence for a month after Kurt gave it pride of place in their room.

“Actually.” Blaine said suddenly, a wicked light in his eye. “I should totally count. Wouldn't it be funny if he got it wrong?”

This time Kurt rolled his eyes as Blaine took his phone back. He watched him balance it on one shoulder as he held up both hands dramatically to count off the insults on his fingers.

Blaine's face fell. He scrunched up his nose and tucked the phone back in Kurt's pocket as they turned the corner.

“Nah. Exactly fifteen bitches.” He shook his head. “Got to hand it to him though, the word sounds much more classy in an English accent.”

Kurt laughed, the sound exploding out. Blaine grinned at him.

When he got over his giggling, the car was silent for a while. At his side, Blaine was staring out of the window, a contemplative look on his face. When he spoke, it was barely above a whisper and clearly not intended for Kurt to hear.

“And I thought I had problems.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

 “So this is him?”

“Yes. This is him.” Kurt confirmed, looking down at Dave Karofsky lying in the bed in front of him. He had told Blaine the whole story during the car ride over.

He felt so emotionally raw as his mind ran through everything that had happened that night. Kurt still couldn't believe it. And no matter how many times he went over it, he still couldn't remember what he had said to actually make Dave pick up the gun again.

“Am I supposed to feel something right now?” Blaine asked out of the blue. “Is this meant to be some sort of warning for me?”

Kurt turned to him, mouth falling open.

“No, Blaine, of course not. Of course it's not a warning. I just like to come and visit and I wanted to take you wi-”

“Who the _hell_ are you?”

The new voice came from the vicinity of the door, and both of them turned to see who had joined them.

A woman stood there, with a teary eyed seventeen-year-old and a distressed thirteen-year-old hovering behind her. Kurt knew instantly who she was, and the girls as well. Jessica and Kate, and Dave's wife, Susan. There was so much pain on their faces. He felt his guilt swell even higher.

“Hello,” He managed to say. His voice came out too high-pitched. He wasn't sure how to introduce himself. How could he look into their eyes and tell them that it was all his fault; that he'd failed to save Dave?

He could feel Blaine watching him. He was supposed to be the strong one, and already he was floundering. He shook himself.

“My name is Kurt Hummel.” He began. “I was with your husband the night of the incident. If you're okay with it, I'd like to tell you-”

“Get out.”

The tension in the room snapped.

“Sorry?” Kurt asked, desperately wishing he could have misheard her.

“You heard me.” She said, voice cold. She pulled her two daughters forward so the doorway was clear. The older one, Jessica, looked Kurt in the eye and opened her mouth to say something. Her mother had one hand clamped tightly around her arm. They looked very alike with their long brown hair and curved dimpled mouths. The difference was that Jessica didn't look angry. She looked curious.

Blaine placed a hand on Kurt's back and urged him gently forward. Susan was still glaring at them like they had run a knife through her heart. Jessica closed her mouth and didn't say a word.

The pair of them stepped outside the door and it closed behind them, the noise of the heart monitor cut off instantly.

It was strange, living this moment, the one Kurt had imagined so many times in a thousand different ways. It wasn't as if he hadn't considered this scenario. In fact, he'd considered many things that might have been worse. But he had always really hoped that this wouldn't happen in real life. He'd wanted a chance to talk to them, to explain what Dave had said.

And now he couldn't.

“That was incredibly brave of you.” Blaine told him gently, hand still resting on the small of his back, anchoring him as they walked through the hospital.

“Can we not talk about it?” Kurt asked.

“Okay.” Blaine's tone of voice was so tender; he almost started crying then and there. They moved on in silence until they reached the doors leading out of the building.

Just like Jessica, Blaine opened his mouth like he might say something else, and then closed it again.

…

The long drive to Lima was one Kurt took almost every weekend he could, to visit his Dad and Carole. He spent a lot on gas, but it was totally worth it. As he and Blaine settled in for the trip, they mostly sat in silence. Kurt was still trying not to think about the Karofsky family.

But then Blaine, with a questioning glance at him, turned on the radio and turned up the volume.

They didn't sing along at first. They were in that awkward space between wanting to sing and trying to work out if the other person in the car wouldn't mind. But when Katy Perry's _Teenage Dream_ started to play, it seemed Blaine couldn't help himself any longer. His rich tones filled the car as his vocal chords quickly warmed up to the song. Kurt jumped a little at the first sound, and then kept driving, silent, stunned by his beautiful voice. Even though he _had_ expected it.

There was something enchanting about seeing Blaine loosen under the influence of music. By the next song, Kurt was joining in.

The tension melted from the car as both to them lost themselves in singing, unabashedly enjoying the whole thing.

When they pulled into Lima, they were giggling uncontrollably together, and Kurt didn't think he'd ever seen Blaine looking so carefree. He almost regretted pulling to a stop in front of the bookstore and killing the engine.

“Well, this is it.” He said, nodding to the shop front where a beautiful sign declared it as Fabray Books. “It's my friend Quinn's shop.”

Blaine nodded, looking slightly apprehensive now. Kurt climbed out of the car and led the way inside.

Quinn and her mother lived in a quaint but pretty little flat just above the shop. It was good that their living quarters were so close to her work, because Quinn cared almost constantly for her sick mother, whom she loved more than almost anyone in the world. It wasn't rare to have her dash off up the stairs several times a day when Mrs Fabray rang the bell calling for her assistance. Quinn didn't mind though. She was very dedicated to keeping her comfortable.

They hadn't always been so close though. In fact, back when Quinn was still a teenager, when her parents first discovered she was pregnant, her father had been quick to completely turn on her. Her mother hadn't even tried to step in while she was cast out of her own home. She lived with the Hudsons for most of that year.

But the day the baby was due; Mrs Fabray had appeared on the doorstep of the Hudson household and begged her forgiveness. The two of them moved into their own flat, away from her father, and began a better life together as mother and daughter.

It had been in Quinn's first year of college (Yale, no less) that her mother suffered a severe stroke. She came out of it with numerous health issues and an inability to feel the whole left side of her body. Quinn left college in a heartbeat, and returned home. She dedicated all of her time to her mother and the bookstore that she had purchased upon leaving her husband.

It still made Kurt sad, to think of all the wasted potential in Quinn's life. But he understood. He would never fault her for the choice she made.

The bell above them rang out as they entered the shop.

“Kurt!” Quinn called happily, immediately slipping off her seat behind the counter and bouncing across to envelope him in a huge hug. He squeezed back.

“I like your dress.”

“ _You_ bought it for me.” Quinn laughed, pulling back.

“That's why I like it.” Kurt smirked as she rolled her eyes at him. Then she caught sight of Blaine. He was standing back, watching them curiously.

“Who's this?” She asked, a strange indecipherable look growing on her face as she glanced between them.

“This is Blaine. Blaine, this is Quinn.”

“It's good to meet you.” Blaine said politely, sticking out a hand to shake. “Kurt told me all about you.”

“I hope he didn't bore you.” Quinn joked.

“Oh no, of course not! They were all good things. He loves you a lot.” Blaine said quickly, looking embarrassed.

“Yeah, he's a bit of a sap.”

“He is.” Blaine agreed, suddenly smiling again.

“Okay, that's enough.” Kurt huffed, nudging Quinn's arm. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir.” Quinn said, giving him a mock salute that made Blaine chuckle.

Kurt led her toward the back of the shop, where there was a whole shelf marked 'self-help'. He saw Blaine turn his attention to a line of Sci-Fi novels behind them, and was glad that he had something to occupy himself while he explained their situation in a little more detail to Quinn. She was sympathetic and sad when the story unfolded, casting a motherly glance back to the man who had just taken a book of the shelf and started flicking through pages.

“So he's going to be staying with you?” She asked.

“That's the plan.” Kurt confirmed.

“He's gorgeous.”

“He's also in love with another man.”

“Still. He's gorgeous.”

“James wouldn't like to hear you say that.” Kurt tried to change topic.

James was Quinn's boyfriend. The pair had been together several years, and seemed happy as a couple. Despite that, Kurt had yet to decide what he thought of the guy. It wasn't that James wasn't _nice._ It was just that he was a little boring. And often insecure about the strangest things. And nothing more than blandly attractive. And lacking in any form of motivation for most things.

At the mention of his name, Quinn looked down and tried to suppress a smile. She shifted from foot to foot and then looked up at Kurt again.

“He's taking me to The Vivace. For lunch.”

“The Vivace?” Kurt asked, feeling a little baffled, because James wasn't normally the romantic type. “Isn't that the romantic place at Public Square?”

“Yes.” Quinn said, waiting for him to understand. Kurt remembered the reputation of the beautiful little restaurant among most people their age and suddenly the excited spark in Quinn's eye spread.

“He's going to propose!” He gasped.

Quinn couldn't keep a straight face anymore. She clearly agreed with him.

“There's a chance it'll just be lunch. I mean, don't want to get my hopes up...” She said, beaming despite the words coming out of her mouth.

“I'm happy for you.”

“It hasn't happened yet.” Quinn scolded, but her eyes shone.

Kurt remembered her in High School, so desperate for male attention, so desperate to feel loved. He remembered how long it had taken her to feel comfortable in herself and in being single. She had thrived like that right through her last two years until well after High School, well after she dropped out of Yale, and well after her mother's illness became obviously lasting. For a long time, she'd embraced the joys of being unattached to anyone but family and friends.

But with her mother growing sicker, she had, in a soft moment, let James ask her on a date.

And now they were going to be married.

Kurt couldn't quite believe it. He'd always seen James as an in-between stage. He'd thought that the guy was just an experiment on Quinn's part to see if she was ready to have a boyfriend again. She never seemed to love him with the same fierce passion that she loved other things in her life. The idea of them being together _forever_ was sort of mind-blowing.

But perhaps he just helped her to feel safe, to feel like she had an anchor in the stress of her mother's health.

“So what are you here for?” Quinn asked, jerking Kurt out of him contemplation.

He scanned the shelves for a moment and then picked out the perfect title. He handed the book to Quinn and watched her look down at it.

“Oh, Kurt, at last! This will be good for you.” She said enthusiastically.

“What?” He asked. “No. It's not for me. It's for Blaine.”

“Oh,”

“What do you mean 'at last'?” Kurt said slowly.

“Nothing. Of course it's for Blaine. That was obvious, I'm sorry. Just ignore me.” Her cheeks tinged with pink in her embarrassment, and he could see her searching for a chance of topic. “Adam called me last night.”

Kurt felt a prickle of worry.

“He did?”

“It was quite late. He'd clearly been drinking.”

Blaine joined then, the book he'd been examining still in his hands, like he'd sensed that he should be at Kurt's side. He was in perfect timing to watch another delicate piece of Kurt's life chip away.

“I doubt that- I mean he- he shouldn't have really told me in the first place. I get that you might have told him things that you wanted to keep private, even if they were about me. So I'm trying not to be mad at you.” Quinn had that wounded look in her eye despite the unbothered exterior. It was a look Kurt knew too well, and it made his own blood bubble with anger. He had no idea why Adam was behaving this way, but it was starting to drive him insane. He understood his ex trying to hurt him. He could cope with that. But lashing out at Kurt's friends?

“What did he say?” His tone was dangerous.

“He said you think I'm a loser for living here with Mom and you wish I’d stayed at Yale because I'm throwing away my life. And also that I'm probably wasting my time with James and neither of us deserves each other and he'll probably end up leaving me if I don't leave him first.” She jutted out her chin, daring him to confirm the statements.

“Oh god.” Kurt pinched this bridge of his nose between two fingers, exhausted with the whole situation. “I'm _so sorry_ he said that to you.”

There was a long pause, and he desperately hoped Quinn would say something.

“I can manage.” Quinn half-smiled, sensing how upset he was. “I told him I knew he was hurting but he had to let go of you and he'd see it was the right thing in the end. Then he started crying and swore at me so I told him he was behaving like a snotty little dick. I hope that's okay?”

“Of course it's fine. You can say whatever you want.”

“So is it true? The things he said?”

Kurt could tell his whole face was burning. He didn't want to admit that some of it had been true. But he couldn't lie to Quinn. He just couldn't.

“Some of it.”

Her green eyes filled with tears.

“Not in the way Adam said it!” He quickly corrected. “I just worry that you don't look out for yourself enough. I know you love your mother and I totally understand your choices. I was just a little sad because I could see potential for you to do so much at Yale.”

“She's my _mother,_ Kurt.” Quinn said.

“I know. I would have done the same thing for my Dad. I would have done anything. I promise I never called you a loser. I just said that I wish you could have done more for yourself. That's all.”

Quinn pushed back a curl of blonde hair and shook her head.

“I don't get it though. You've never told me that's how you felt.”

“I don't want to make your decisions for you. I know you can make them yourself.” He reached out a hand for hers. “I just worry about you.”

“You don't need to worry about me.” Quinn was still blinking back tears. She gave Kurt's hand the tiniest squeeze and then let go.

Before Kurt could even try to say anything more, the bell started ringing as Mrs Fabray called for help upstairs.

“I have to go.” Quinn said. “Take the book. Good luck to both of you.”

And she whirled past in a flicker of blue skirt and vanished up the back staircase.

Kurt stared after her and swore at Adam repeatedly inside his head. He never liked it when his friends were upset, and hated when it was because of him. It was even worse when he recognized the look in Quinn's eye, and he knew that the reason his comments hurt her so much was because she had thought every one of those things about herself at some point.

“He's ringing your friends now?” Blaine broke the silence. “That's very clever.”

“Yes.” Kurt squared his shoulders and looked him in the eye. “And I'm not going to let it affect me. We _both_ need to learn to face things with positivity.”

“I have one problem with that.” He countered. “See, I don't think Quinn should be getting her hopes up about dinner.”

“But it’s The _Vivace_.” Kurt said.

“So?”

“So that's where people go to propose.”

“It's also where people go to eat lunch.” Blaine said. “I just mean she shouldn't get carried away before it happens. I know what that feels like. I'm kind of done being positive.”

“Okay.” Kurt sighed. “You may have a point. But I think in most cases, positivity will be good for you, Blaine. It'll be good for both of us.”

Blaine shrugged. He didn't seem entirely convinced, and Kurt was at a loss of what else to say. He had never been a particularly positive person himself.

“Let's go meet my family.” He said at last.

…

Kurt didn't bother knocking. It was 11.30 and so he knew that everyone would be together having some sort of mid-morning snack by now. Sure enough, they found his father sitting with Carole, Finn, and Rachel around the dining table.

“Oh. My. God!” Rachel screeched, slamming both hands down on the table. “I knew it was because he met someone else!”

“What?” Kurt was already baffled.

“You haven't contacted any of us in _so long._ Of _course_ it's because you met a guy.” She grinned that manic Rachel grin of hers. “And he's _gorgeous_. How is Adam going to cope with this? I mean, he may have been cute but-”

“What? No.” Kurt was turning red again. “He's not- we aren't- Blaine is just a friend.”

Rachel immediately looked disappointed, and he saw the rest of his family trying to mask laughter.

“I'm sorry.” Kurt said to Blaine. “As you may have guessed, the crazy one is Rachel, and that's my brother Finn, my step-mom Carole, and my Dad.”

“It's nice to meet you.” Carole said with a warm smile while Burt and Finn both nodded. Kurt was confused to see that his father was wearing almost the exact same expression that Quinn had worn when she first met Blaine. He still couldn't quite decipher it.

“How do you know Kurt?” Finn asked.

“Sit down Blaine.” Kurt encouraged, pulling out a chair for him before sitting down himself.

Blaine seemed nervous as he took his place at the table. He glanced over at Kurt, who gave him a reassuring smile, and then turned toward the others. Kurt followed his line of sight. Rachel was leaning on her elbows, blinking at Blaine with big curious brown eyes, seeming fascinated by him. Finn sat beside her, an encouraging smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. Carole was cradling a mug of coffee, her whole expression welcoming. Last of all, there was Burt Hummel, wearing a perplexed half-frown and tapping his fingers on the table. Like always, with his baseball cap and his plaid shirt, the intuitive focus of his face seemed nearly out of place. Yet, Kurt thought with a smile, it suited him.

At his side, Blaine was clearly thinking very quickly. After analysing the members of Kurt’s family, he took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Kurt could practically sense the shift in Blaine’s posture as he made the choice to trust them, and finally opened his mouth to speak.

“He stopped me from jumping off the Main Street Bridge a few nights ago.”

“He's always been such a killjoy.” Finn accused.

“I wasn't jumping for fun.” Blaine explained.

They all looked at him. He fidgeted, unsure how to cope with their stares.

Kurt waited, holding his breath. He knew Burt and Carole would be good at working out the right thing to say, and he was sort of counting on Finn and Rachel for their ability to make the unimportant things important and the important things unimportant.

“Main Street Bridge isn't even that high?” Finn said at last, scrunching up his nose.

“What are you talking about?” Carole sounded long-suffering.

“That's hardly a drop. It's like... not big in terms of bridges.”

“He wasn't trying to kill himself with the drop, Finn” Rachel said. “He was probably trying to drown himself. Were you?”

They all looked at Blaine again. He looked very surprised, the tiniest smile pulling at one corner of his mouth. Kurt relaxed.

He was always worried when introducing people to him family. Often they completely didn't know how to deal with them. But there were always a few people who seemed to just fit right in.

“I said 'were you trying to drown yourself?'” Rachel repeated, a little louder.

“He doesn't have water in his ears, Rachel.” Carole said. “Kurt saved him.”

Kurt laughed, and Blaine looked across at him, his grin growing bigger.

“Well done Kurt.” Burt added, “Good for you.”

“Thanks.”

“I'm still confused.” Finn said.

“This probably makes you feel better about the other one, right?” Rachel spoke over him. Blaine shot Kurt a protective look, concerned that the mention of Dave might upset him.

“The river isn't that deep?” Finn interrupted.

“You could drown in a puddle if you got stuck or broke your back or something.” Rachel explained. “Remember how we had to be really careful around the bathtub and things when Elphie started crawling?”

“Was your back broken?” Finn asked Blaine.

“No of course not. It was two nights ago. I wouldn't have healed so fast.” He looked confused.

“Can you swim?”

“Yes.”

“Okay I really don't get it. How would jumping in water kill you then?” Finn asked. “It would be like me eating ice cream all day to try and get skinny.”

“Which you actually do.” Rachel snickered and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Blaine, do you have a car?” Burt asked suddenly. Kurt could tell he was trying to find a way to help, even with a small thing. He was probably about to offer a free check-up down at the tire store.

“Um, no. Not personally.” Blaine said. “Just a company car.”

“Is it here, or back in Columbus?”

“Oh, I don't actually live in Ohio most of the time. It's only recently that I've been here. I'm staying in Westerville.”

“What brought you out to Ohio then?”

“Have you been listening to anything, Burt?” Rachel said. “He tried to jump off Main Street Bridge.”

“But there's good bridges all over the country.”

“He came to help the family business.” Kurt intervened before Burt started listing every bridge in Ohio. “Blaine and I will probably get going now. I just wanted to tell you why I've been ignoring your calls.”

“What are you even doing together?” Rachel asked, as nosey as ever. “Do you just hang out now?”

Blaine looked slightly amused by this.

“He’s trying to convince me to like my life before I turn twenty-five.”

They were all dead quiet again. It was obvious what would happen if Kurt couldn't meet that deadline.

“When's that?” Carole asked softly.

“Twelve days.”

“Are you having a party?” Rachel asked. Although her enthusiasm was a little forced, Kurt appreciated the way Blaine's posture became less tense.

“Yes.” He replied.

“Can we come?” She demanded.

“You know, you should get one of those big cakes that are disguised to look like other food. Like hamburgers and things. They're very clever.” Burt said. Kurt buried his face in his hands. He regretted ever showing Burt the picture of the cakes shaped like fast food.

“You're obsessed with those cakes.” Rachel said.

“They're very clever.” Burt defended himself. “Finn agrees.”

“You look sad.” Carole said. She was still watching Blaine.

“That's because he _is._ ” Finn told her.

“I don't know if Kurt is the right person for you, Blaine.” Carole continued, as though her son hadn't spoken. “He's lovely, but he's not professionally trained for this sort of situation. I know a few therapists.”

“Are you saying I can't help him?” Kurt asked, defensive even though he hadn't even wanted the job in the first place.

“No.” Carole said, gentle. “I just meant that you have a few of your own problems.”

“Well maybe they'll make each other happy.” Burt finished the conversation. He nodded at Kurt, not missing the way his eyes filled with tears, and stood, clapping his hands together. “Right. Finn, back to the garage! Blaine, remember to ask about the burger cakes.”

“See you later, Dad.” Kurt waved, ushering Blaine toward the door. “See you later guys.”

“Goodbye. It was nice to meet you!” Blaine called.

“Bye Kurt! Bye Blaine!” They yelled back. There was a pause. Kurt thought he was out safely. He'd had enough family madness for one day.

“Oh, Kurt!” Rachel yelled. “Adam called last night and told me you _pee_ in the _shower._ ”

Kurt froze mid-step. Blaine slowly turned to face him. For the millionth time that week, he felt his cheeks flush bright pink. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and marched on toward the car.

…

When they arrived at Kurt's office after the long drive back to Columbus and a trip to his favourite bakery for bribery doughnuts, it didn't take long for him to get time off work. He was glad his boss was in a state of distraction and hadn't had time to fully think over his request. Now that his two weeks leave was granted, she couldn't take it back. He traipsed back downstairs with Blaine and approached his corner of the office.

It was obvious that Marley had been there to visit. His usual coffee was sitting on his desk, cold by now, and with a sad face after his name instead of a happy one. On his screen, the Google homepage was open, with one phrase typed into the search bar.

_How to sincerely apologise to someone you hurt..._

He read the words and sighed, raking a hand through his perfectly styled hair and messing it up. At least Marley was offering him a chance of reconciliation, reaching out to him first. He still felt so guilty about the way he'd dismissed her.

Sighing, Kurt took out his phone. He'd turned it off after leaving his dad's house, so he switched it on now. Instantly, it exploded with a flood of texts and calls. Every single name was one of the mutual friends he shared with his ex-boyfriend. It looked like it wasn't just Marley he had to apologise to.

“Blaine, we'll probably be here for a while. Make yourself at home.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

 “Oh my god, this designer is amazing!” Blaine called excitedly, tugging something out of the filing cabinet in the corner of Kurt's cubicle. He had been given permission to look at whatever he wanted so long as he put it back where it came from. At the sound of his shout, Kurt turned around, and his face dropped into surprise.

“Oh no, don't look at that stuff!” He gasped hurriedly.

“Why not? It's really good.” Blaine was pulling out three more drawings from the same file, gazing at them in awe.

“Because,” Kurt was blushing again. He cursed his pale skin. “It's all mine.”

“You drew this?” Blaine gasped, jaw dropping at he looked up for the first time at his companion.

“Um- yeah.”

“But this is really quality work, Kurt.” Blaine said, laying out the three drawings he'd already examined and then looking for more. “Why aren't you in design?”

“I don't know. I never really had anything I was happy enough to put together a portfolio.”

“You totally could if you really wanted to.” Blaine said, now setting out five more drawings in a row, lingering over the ones that really caught his eye.

“I used to.” Kurt admitted.

“What?”

“I used to have ambitions to become a designer.”

Blaine beamed at him, so bright and enthusiastic he was barely recognizable. Kurt felt a pleased flutter somewhere in his chest. It was wonderful to be appreciated. It was perhaps even better to have made Blaine smile like that.

“I could see you as one of those super elegant New York designers with a big glamorous office and a no-nonsense attitude who everyone both loves and fears.” Blaine said, nodding seriously. “You could have young interns who come in all terrified to bring you a cup of coffee but their hands would be shaking so much they'd drop it everywhere and as they panicked, sure they were going to be fired but their intimidating, perfectly put together boss, you'd just bend down beside them and help them clean up and say to them 'don't worry, I may seem tough but I'm really just a giant softie. I once saved this total nutcase from jumping off a bridge and _then_ I let him live with me for two weeks. Spilt coffee is barely a blip on my radar'.”

Kurt laughed, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You're ridiculous.” He told Blaine.

“What can I say? I try my best.”

As Blaine turned his pleased smile back to the drawer at his side, Kurt watched him for another minute.

“You know, we should make a crisis plan.” He said suddenly. “I saw this article on suicidal thoughts once. It was just a-after the whole Dave Karofsky thing. Paid a lot more attention to it than I otherwise might have. It said that it always helps to make a crisis plan of things you can do when you're feeling low.”

“What like light candles and take a bath and suddenly feel magically better?” Blaine sounded sceptical. The light was gone from his eyes again.

“No.” Kurt wished he'd given him a few moments longer before bringing up the topic.”We'd make it personal to you. Things that make you feel better.”

“So we write a list of things for me to do when I'm sad? To make me not sad?”

“That's the general idea.” He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. “It's just a good way of turning away negative thoughts and finding distractions that make you happy. Like- like maybe music?”

“Yeah, okay.” Blaine abandoned his maze of drawings and dragged the wheelie chair from Kitty's corner over to Kurt's. Kurt was glad that his three co-workers were all out on a photography location today, and he didn't have to awkwardly introduce them to Blaine.

Kurt wrote their first idea at the top of the page.

_1\. Listen to Music. Try singing something._

“I'm not sure what else might help you.” He said. “I've been getting some sort of idea, but you need to tell me a little more before I can really understand what works.”

“Okay. Makes sense.” Blaine said, looking at the page.

“How are you feeling right now?”

Blaine stared at Kurt. He spun a little in the chair, thinking of an answer.

“I'm feeling... suicidal.”

“Right now?”

“I always am.”

“Okay,” Kurt said. “Then let's say that suicidal doesn't count for this activity. It's not really a feeling so much as a state of mind anyway. How about we focus on emotions. Like if you're feeling angry or abandoned because your brother left the country, then you'd be able to deal with that anger in some way as its own separate issue. I think it's important to separate suicidal thoughts from emotions, because eventually you'll be able to feel sad or angry or anything negative like that without wanting to kill yourself. Understand?”

“Yes.” Blaine said. He stared out of the windows for a moment. “In that case, I'm feeling pissed off.”

“Why?”

“Because my boyfriend is sleeping with my best friend.”

Kurt nodded.

“I also feel stupid. Because I didn't even know it was happening until I saw them together.” He folded his arms, leaning back in Kitty's chair. “I feel... resigned. Because I understand why he did it. I _had_ been detached. It made sense that he didn't know how to deal with me anymore. I can tell him I'm better now. I will get better. I can go back.”

“You can't change overnight.”

“Of course not, but-” Blaine looked frustrated. “I will change. You _said_ you would help me.”

“I will.” Kurt spoke gently. “I really will. And it starts here and now. So we need to keep talking about this stuff.”

They talked for a long time. Blaine told Kurt a lot about what made him feel down (mostly the things in his life they had already discussed) and the things that made him happy (which were surprisingly similar in a lot of ways to the things that made Kurt happy).

They finished writing out the list neatly on a new piece of paper, and when Blaine started to look sufficiently drained and Kurt's head was pounding with the amount they still had to work on, they stopped.

“Take this.” He said, holding out the carefully folded piece of paper for Blaine to tuck into his pocket. “Now come on. We're getting out of here before the rest of the crew return.”

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked.

Kurt handed him the book he'd purchased off Quinn. For a while, Blaine stared at the cover, seeming a little amused. Kurt glanced at it over his shoulder. _Thirty Simple Ways to Enjoy Life._ The book that had made his friend exclaim “At last!”. Was he really that dull? Had it been so obvious to everyone else that he wasn't satisfied with his life?

Lost in his thoughts, Kurt jumped when Blaine handed the book back to him.

“That doesn't answer my question.” He said. “Where are we going?”

“It will.” Kurt promised, opening the book and flipping past the introduction to the first chapter.

_1\. Enjoy your meals. Don't just eat. Really taste the flavours, appreciate the richness, and try new things._

The chapter went on to talk in more detail, but that was all Kurt needed. He shut the book with a snap and attempted to smile at Blaine, his stomach already complaining at the idea of eating food. His lack of appetite may have been more of a problem than he'd been willing to acknowledge. Still, perhaps it would be good for both him and Blaine to learn to enjoy food. Judging by breakfast, they both had the same lack of appetite.

“We're going out for lunch.” he said. A glance at the clock told him that, what with everything else they'd done that day, it was already twenty past three. But it shouldn't matter too much in their case. They could just have a late meal.

Just before they walked out the door, Kurt turned to the computer and typed something new into the search bar, hoping that Marley would be back to see it and understand the message he was trying to send.

_How do you follow orders in the office without hurting your friends?_

…

The cafe Kurt chose was a lovely little place that he frequented with Finn. They had discovered it the year after high school, when they found themselves stuck in Lima as their friends lived out their dreams across the country.

Back in those days, they used to talk about how much they missed Rachel, and share their disappointment over not getting into their respective New York colleges. When Rachel snatched up a role on Broadway, they had celebrated together and then comforted each other, Finn eating fifth helpings of chocolate cake while Kurt cleaned up a whole cheesecake.

Of course there had been happy times too. Like when Kurt had been given the job with the magazine, or when Finn realized he wanted to become a teacher. Even the day when Rachel announced that the show was over and she was coming home. The day Finn decided to propose. Or when they found out Rachel was pregnant. The cafe was their special place; their secret brother bonding club.

Kurt had thought it might feel weird bringing Blaine inside, because it had been slightly strange all those times when he took Adam. But it didn't.

They chose a different table from Kurt and Finn's usual one, and the familiar staff gave Kurt interested smiles at the sight of him with a man who wasn't his brother or his ex-boyfriend.

Blaine flicked listlessly through the menu. Kurt wished he could just order what had recently become his usual small plate of fries and large iced mocha. But he was here to eat proper food. He had to look like he was enjoying it. That was the whole _point._

“So eating is fun?” Blaine asked at last, nose scrunched adorably as he glanced around at the other people inside the cafe, all laughing or talking quietly together. “I thought it was just necessary to survive.”

“Of course it's fun.” Kurt said completely unconvincingly, smiling as he saw his favourite waitress approaching the table.

“Who's the new cutie?” She asked immediately, unabashedly smirking at Blaine.

“He's just a friend, Unique.” Kurt said quickly.

“The only other people you've ever brought here are your dork of a brother and your ex-boyfriend. You don't use this place for 'just friends'.” She corrected, wagging a finger at him.

“Wait, how do _you_ know he's my _ex_ -boyfriend?”

“He came into the cafe yesterday around lunch to grab a quick drink and he told me you were a back-stabbing bitch and not to trust you.” She rolled her eyes.

“I'm sorry.” Kurt said again.

“Don't be. It's not your fault. He's just hurting right now. He'll get better.” Unique shrugged. “Now, do you just want the usual, Kurt?”

“Um, no.” He said, panicking as he looked down at the menu again. “I'm actually having the- uh- the braised lamb shank with the root vegetable things.”

“Of course.” Unique wrote it down and turned to Blaine. “Anything for you?”

“Just coffee, thanks.”

“Blaine,” Kurt scolded. He jabbed a finger at him. “Food. It'll be fun.”

Blaine looked lost as he stared blankly at the menu.

“What do you suggest?” Kurt asked.

“The open chicken sandwich is really nice. Tender chicken on ciabatta bread. It has the best sauce I've ever tasted and it comes with fries and a little salad.” Unique described, smiling kindly at Blaine as though she sensed his exhaustion.

“Yeah. I'll have that.” Blaine accepted.

“Coming right up.” Unique promised, collecting both of their menus before walking off.

“When did you lose your appetite?” Kurt asked Blaine, hoping to prompt more of their serious conversation.

“I don't know. Couple months ago maybe. When did you lose yours?”

“I-”

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

“You know alcohol and coffee aren't good things for people who are feeling depressed.” Kurt quickly changed the conversation before he had to answer.

“You had coffee for breakfast this morning.”

“I'm not depressed.” Kurt said firmly.

“Not at all?” Blaine seemed to ask without meaning to. They were both silent for a moment. Kurt considered the question, very apprehensive. There was a chance that Blaine had a point. And that scared him.

“All I'm saying is, I think we need to start watching what we're eating over these next few days. Don't people always recommend a healthy lifestyle for problems like this? Three square meals a day and exercise, right?” He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “I mean, clearly you're already quite fit. You must- uh- I just mean you must work out a lot. I mean- you're not- you have a nice... body.”

“It's all from the stripping, remember?” Blaine said, a glint in his eye.

“I'm pretty sure I said you were a model. Not a stripper.”

“Ah, well, how am I meant to know what goes on in your mind?”

“Yeah, all I do is picture you stripping for me.” Kurt said dryly.

Blaine couldn't keep a straight face anymore. He exploded in a barking laugh. Kurt shook his head, unable to stop himself from laughing as well.

“I'm just confused because I've never seen you eat.” He said when they were calm again and had been sitting in silence for too long. “So I think it's vital that you _do_ keep eating. You need the energy to, you know, stay healthy.”

Blaine rolled his eyes and then asked if Kurt had been to the cafe before. It was only after Kurt had finished explaining what the place meant to him that Unique appeared with two enormous plates of food. She set them down with that big smile of hers. They both stared at them with dread.

“Did I get the order right?” She asked, not missing the less-than-enthusiastic reaction.

“Yes, of course.” Kurt said quickly, shooting her a smile. “This looks lovely. Thank you.”

He picked up his fork as she walked away, trying to work out where to start tackling the plate of food in front of him

“So what _is_ your usual order?” Blaine asked. “Since you clearly don't like eating either.”

“Coffee and a bowl of fries. My brother probably eats enough for two anyway.” Kurt took a brave stab at a piece of roast potato and dipped it into the sauce spread across the lamb. Blaine hadn't touched his cutlery.

“And you still think this is a good idea?” He sounded doubtful. Kurt shoved the potato in his mouth, chewing perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

“Mm, yes.” He lied. “This is delicious. I used to cook things like this all the time. I loved it. Probably still would if I tried cooking again. It's been a while. I just haven't had... the motivation. This has a nice sauce. I'm pretty sure there's a touch of mint. Maybe lemon as well. Is yours good?”

Blaine sighed at lifted his own knife and fork. He broke off the smallest corner of his chicken, stabbed it into a french fry, and stuck it in his mouth.

“So much fun.” he said insincerely, mouth full. “When was the last time you _properly_ ate out?”

“I guess it was with Adam.” Kurt said, swallowing another mouthful. The food was so rich. He wasn't sure how he was meant to manage a whole plate. “When we were still... happy.”

“How long ago was that? Wait, how long were you together?”

“Eat, Blaine.” Kurt reminded him. “Is it nice? Are the fries crispy?”

“Yes. The fries are very crispy. And the bread is the same texture as bread. Even the chicken is chickeny. The sauce is saucy.”

“Since college. I told you.” Kurt answered his previous question, ignoring his attempts at a joke.

“But how old are you now?”

“Isn't that the one question you're never meant to ask?” Kurt teased before replying. “I'm twenty-six.”

“Long time to be with someone and just leave them.” Blaine said. He stabbed the next mouthful rather furiously before eating it.

“Well that's because the relationship really was wonderful at first. It was- it was definitely a long slow journey to realising we weren't right together. I think neither of us considered that we might not be what the other really needed. We always liked the _idea_ of being in love. I guess I just saw past it to the reality of the situation before Adam did.” Kurt let out a sad huff. “He'll see it soon too. He just needs to let go and think it through.”

There was a long silence. Kurt blinked rapidly as his eyes pricked with tears. He felt so bad for how awfully Adam seemed to be taking their break-up. He just didn't know how to fix it.

“Don't stop eating.” Blaine suddenly seemed softer. “Is your lamb very lamby?”

Kurt smiled despite himself. He took another bite.

“When did you know you weren't right together?” Blaine asked, cutting off the corner of his open sandwich and trying to stick it all in his mouth at once, getting sauce all over his face.

Kurt hesitated. He could either give the honest answer – the one only his high school friends and his family knew – or he could tell the same lie he fed to everyone else.

“Honesty, remember?” Blaine reminded him, that bit of sauce looking like a lopsided goatee. His eyes were dark amber in the light of the cafe, and completely understanding. He seemed to be giving up his personal sense of injustice in favour of listening openly to Kurt's side of the story.

“I had inklings, vague moments where I started to realize it, for a while. But I guess the exact moment was when we were at Rachel and Finn's place, watching _Moulin Rouge._ It was that really emotional scene, where they're both singing Come What May to each other. And I was sitting there, beside my wonderful charming boyfriend, realising that I couldn't picture myself singing that song to him.” Kurt stared dreamily down at his plate a long time, but then the faraway look melted and he looked embarrassed. “It's silly.”

“It's not silly.”

“Thank you.” He glanced up at Blaine and found he had to avert his eyes again. He couldn't cope with the intensity of the other man's gaze. “Well, even after watching the movie, I kept trying to make us work. I sort of ignored the problem, pushed it aside and hoped with time it might change. But then I saw Dave try to kill himself and I realized that I couldn't stop avoiding the truth. Life's too short.”

Blaine looked very serious, watching Kurt closely, chewing on a mouthful of food he couldn't seem to swallow.

“I'm sure if I thought about it more at the time we watched the movie, I could have found a kinder, better way out of the relationship. A good alternative. But I didn't.”

“Like me going to the bridge.”

“Yes, something like that.” Kurt agreed. “I guess we both need to learn how to tackle our problems and find better ways to escape them.”

Blaine nodded and returned to his meal, a contemplative look on his face.

Kurt looked between both of their plates. He ate a little more, watching Blaine clean off a few forkfuls as well, and then set down his cutlery.

“I'm stuffed.” He admitted.

“Thank god. Can we stop?” Blaine pleaded, letting his cutlery drop to the table as well. “I mean this is nice and all but I'm _way_ out of practice with eating so much.”

“Did you enjoy it though?”

“More than I thought I would.”

“That's good. We're getting there.” Kurt said. He dug into his bag again and withdrew the book. He flipped to chapter two this time, ready to hear what their next activity would be.

_2\. Go for a walk in a park or in the countryside. Really look at your surroundings. Appreciate the beauty of what's going on around you._

Leaving a generous tip for Unique and endless (mostly fake) apologies about how they loved the food and were so sad they didn't have time to finish it all, Kurt and Blaine soon found themselves back in the car, on their way to a park.

…

It was very cold outside, so both of them were glad for the coats and scarves they were wearing. There weren't many other people in the park. They passed a couple with a dog, and a flustered mother with two little twins trying to push each other into the duck pond. Most of the trees were bare, and residual clusters of crackling leaves remained left over from fall.

Eventually, Kurt led Blaine toward a small bench and they both sat down. As soon as they did so, Kurt regretted his choice of where to stop. They were in the middle of the rose garden, and while that sounded nice in theory, the rose garden in _winter_ wasn't exactly very uplifting. They looked out over bleak, bare, clipped branches without a single touch of colour.

Kurt was pretty sure that whoever wrote their “How to Enjoy Life” book had been writing in summertime. Still, he figured this was as good a time as any to start up a proper conversation again.

“Did you buy Sebastian flowers often?”

“Yes, but never _ever_ on Valentine’s Day.”

“How come?”

“Too clichéd. He always told me I wasn't allowed.” Blaine smiled to himself.

“So what did you get instead?”

“Oh all sorts of things.” He swung his legs like a child, thinking about it. “Last year I got him a grapefruit with a mini French flag stuck in the top. The year before I got him an actual frog. Borrowed it from my friend Trent.”

“A frog?” Kurt gasped.

“You know, so he could kiss it and get his Prince Charming. I literally refused to kiss him all day until he planted one on the frog.” Blaine's grin was enormous.

“Ugh, that's so cheesy.”

“Are you trying to build up my confidence or destroy me?”

“Sorry.” Kurt smiled. “It _is_ actually pretty cute. I can't believe he kissed it.”

“Yeah,” Blaine said, face slowly going back to normal. Kurt was about to ask something else when his grin suddenly returned full force.

“What is it?” He asked, curious.

“It's silly.”

“I'm sure it's not.”

The secret smile intrigued Kurt, made him want to know more. He was fascinated by the softer romantic side to Blaine.

“It's just a joke we had about me getting him a certain type of flower.”

“What kind?”

“A water lily.” Blaine explained.

“There must be more to this story.” Kurt asked, seeing the way Blaine hesitated over the next words, like he wanted to do them justice in the retelling.

“The day I first met him was in a park. Sebastian was just about to transfer to Dalton, where I was at school. His father already knew some of the other kids’ fathers and so they pretty much organized the big group meet-up to welcome him. I went along with Trent and Hunter and the other boys in our glee club.”

“Wait... you didn't tell me you did glee?”

“Oh, I loved glee. I was in the Warblers. I was even lead singer.” Blaine glanced over at Kurt. “That's why I teach glee now. And it's why I was so excited before when you said you were in a sort of glee club. I thought we might have seen each other as teenagers, since we would both be competing with other Ohio clubs.”

“I wish I'd been in an actual club then. Would have been cool to meet the high school Blaine.”

“I was a clueless idiot for most of high school.” Blaine countered, shaking his head, but seeming a little fond.

“I bet you were dreamy though.”

“Sebastian thought so.” Blaine hesitated. “What were you like?”

“Well, like I said before, high school was a bit of a mess for me. I was still amazingly witty and generally fabulous of course, but I was very fragile. And I looked like a baby penguin.” Kurt rolled his eyes at himself. “I bet I would have adored you though.”

“We could have been friends.” Blaine said thoughtfully.

Kurt hummed in agreement, watching the consideration on Blaine's face as he tried to picture what could have been. They both sat like that for a while, Blaine swinging his legs against the leg of the park bench. Kurt couldn't help chuckling at the image of private school Blaine with his beaming smile in some dowdy school uniform. He tried to remember what the Dalton uniform had been like. At his side, he could sense Blaine drifting off into different thoughts, and he quickly decided to get things back on track.

“So, the lily pad thing?”

“Oh yeah. So, we met in this park with our friends all around and Sebastian instantly takes a liking to me. As I said, I was kind of clueless and didn't pick up on it at first, but since he hadn't learnt an ounce of subtly at that age, he was obvious enough for me to realize. I responded. It made me really happy to have him pay so much attention to me. He offered me his number and I instantly accepted; only I didn't have my phone on me since it had broken the day before. So Sebastian wrote his number on a bit of paper.” Blaine smothered laughter so he could actually finish. “Then these two guys, Jeff and Nick, got in our way. They thought they were being really funny by stealing it. It was folded up really small so they chucked it around, goofing off and making fun of how short I was – am – how short I am. And when I tried to jump for it, Jeff chucked it to Trent. Except Trent didn't catch it. It went flying straight into the middle of the pond and landed on a lily pad.”

He paused again, trying not to crack up. Kurt waited, puzzled at why it was so funny.

“So Sebastian takes out another piece of paper, rolling his eyes and saying something snarky. But I was such a hopeless romantic. I didn't want another number. I wanted the original. The first one. And I thought it would be cute to prove to Sebastian that I really liked him. So I stripped off my blazer and bowtie and waded straight out into the pond.”

“Oh my god.” Kurt laughed.

“It was way deeper than I thought. Went up to my chest. But I kept going until I could grab that lily pad. I brought the whole thing back as well as the phone number and I just tucked the paper into my dry clothes, handed Sebastian the lily pad, and announced that I had to go home.” Blaine chuckled again. “I missed half the party, but it was totally worth it. Sebastian loved the gesture. Next time I saw him he called me crazy and then kissed me. He's always said it was the first time a guy managed to surprise him so much.”

“That's really sweet, Blaine.” Kurt couldn’t help smiling at the nostalgic look on his face.

“Thanks.” His laughter dropped into a more serious, more intense sort of smile as he looked at Kurt. “I always loved the idea of being romantic. I wasn't always _good_ at it but I did my best.”

“You sound like you were good at it.”

“We had fun.” Blaine summarised, and then looked annoyed. “I mean we _have_ fun.”

Oddly, Kurt felt sad. He had no stories like that with Adam. They had been very happy together for so long, but not because they were ridiculously romantic with one another, not because they could have wild, spontaneous fun. Perhaps that was part of the reason that Kurt had never felt entirely happy with Adam. Because he had always wanted that silly, overly cheesy romance. He'd wanted it since he was a child and it had been so hard for him to believe that it might not exist in real life.

Perhaps they had only worked for as long as they did because Adam made Kurt feel safe, and it was so uncomplicated to fall in love with him.

With Adam, Kurt felt like he was still in control of himself. He never had to completely let go, to trust his boyfriend with everything. And although Kurt had always wanted a person who made him feel like he was falling and flying all at once, it had been easier for a long time to just settle with Adam. To keep his sense of control. To know that even if Adam left him, it would never entirely break him.

Now – now that he was out of that relationship – now that he'd admitted to himself he couldn't settle for any less, he found himself envying Blaine and Sebastian.

“Let's keep walking.” He said. He wanted to shake off the jealously. Keep going and forget about it.

So they did.

They found a pathway lined with different trees, each with a different wooden sign planted into the ground in front. In the canopy of shadows and with the crunch of leaves underfoot, Kurt let go of his scattered self-indulgent thoughts. Right now, it wasn't about him. It was about helping Blaine. And Blaine clearly loved Sebastian very much. If Kurt could help him get that spark back, show Sebastian that he was still the same Blaine underneath it all, maybe he could help fix the first thing on his new friend's long list of problems.

Blaine laughed and bent down, pointing at one of the signs trying his best to pronounce the Latin names. Kurt snorted unattractively as he got them horribly wrong, and so he kept going, stopping at every sign, butchering the words entirely and singing them out in total confidence until Kurt was rolling his eyes.

“They sound like dinosaurs.” He said.

“They sound like diseases.” Blaine said. “Excuse me doctor, I have a touch of the _prunus avium._ ”

“What's that?” Kurt asked.

“Cherry tree apparently.” Blaine plucked off one of the last clinging leaves and watched it flutter to the ground. “Imagine having a name like that.”

“Actually.” Kurt said, realising something. “What _is_ your full name?”

His eyes lost some of their playful light. It took Kurt a moment to realize why this touched a nerve, and then he remembered Blaine's family business. His family problems.

“Blaine Devon Anderson.”

“Devon Anderson? Like the chocolate!” Kurt said, trying to bring the mood back up. Every kid in the America loved Devon Anderson chocolates. They were probably the most popular kind of treat it was possible to buy, especially at Halloween, when they started selling all their trademark spooky candies. The very mention of the brand usually brought a smile to any face.

“I guess so.”

“' _Devon Anderson, sharing the taste of sun-shiiiine '_.” Kurt cheesily sang the well-known jingle which played during almost every ad break.

Blaine made a face.

“Sorry.” Kurt said. “You probably get that a lot.”

“I do.” Blaine agreed. “Which way out of here?”

He was tired of company so suddenly it made Kurt's head spin.

“Just down th-”

His phone went off. _I Feel Pretty._ Quinn.

“Quinn?” He answered.

“Ah, the proposal that never happened.” Blaine said, turned to walk down the path and give Kurt some privacy.

“Quinn?” Kurt repeated. He heard a sob from the other end and his stomach turned. “What's wrong?”

“I need to talk to you. I'm at your apartment, but you aren't home. You were right about James.” She managed to choke out.

“What do you mean?” Kurt said. “How was I right about James?”

“The things Adam told me. The things you said.”

“That I didn't think you two would work?” Kurt asked, voice dull, feeling hollow. He couldn't stand when his friends were upset. He felt like he was on fire.

In front of him, on the path, Blaine turned back. He could read enough of Kurt's expression to know what had happened. He didn't seem happy that he'd guessed correctly about the proposal that never was.

…

Quinn was waiting with her back against Kurt's door when he thundered up the path toward his ground floor apartment. He was glad that he lived in a block of two-story apartments which had the feel of separate houses. This way, Quinn had some privacy when waiting on the front doorstep instead of having to sit in a hallway with Kurt's neighbours walking past. Blaine was waiting in the car. He wanted to give them some privacy. Kurt didn't like leaving him alone, but he also knew that Quinn would prefer not being seen when she was in a state.

“Oh, Q.” He sighed, flopping down beside her and pulling her into his arms. She clung on tight.

“I'm s-s-sorry.” She sniffled. “I couldn't go to Rachel and Finn's because they have a kid to look after and I-I just had to see someone.”

“It's fine.” He soothed, rubbing her back. “Don't feel bad. Come on inside.”

Slowly, wobbling slightly, she let him guide her to her feet and lead her inside. She collapsed haphazardly into his couch, pulling a pillow into her lap and curling around it as though it would comfort her. Kurt sat at the other end of the couch, cross-legged and leaning on the armrest so that he could face her. Quinn quickly turned, mimicking his position.

“Is your mom okay?”

“Yeah. I left the new girl taking care of the store to look out for her.” Quinn hiccupped. “I just hired her last week. She was in my yoga class. Brittany Pierce. Really nice girl.”

“That's good.” Kurt gave her a moment to wipe her eyes, her breathing slowing a little.

“I don't want Mom to know. She was convinced- she was sure- she thought he was going to propose.” She started crying in earnest again.

“What happened?” Kurt asked gently, well aware that the best thing he could do for her was to listen. Not offer any pointless advice she'd probably already considered.

“He got a job. In _Berlin.”_ Her face crumpled momentarily, but she held it together. “He really wants to go, because it's such a great opportunity. And he asked me to go with him. But he _knows-_ he knows I can't. I can't leave Mom. Not here by herself.”

“Is moving your mother to Berlin an option?”

“No. Not with how sick she is. I couldn't risk it. And anyway, that's not even the point. The point is that he _knew_ it would never happen. He just asked to – he just asked so he could feel good about himself when he – when we – when things ended.”

Kurt waited, listening, a little confused.

“He met this girl once. On one of the trip his company took to Berlin. He told me about it when he got home. Said things were over between them. I believed him. We moved on.” She sniffed. “Except now I think he's planning to get back together with her again. He knew I would never leave my mother. So why ask me to go anyway? Why not just break up with me?”

Kurt shrugged, not knowing the answer.

“The whole fancy lunch, the way he asked me to move with him, it was just a charade to make me break up with him first. Now he gets to go to Berlin and get his new girlfriend and feel no guilt over what happened between us.” Quinn brushed away tears again. “At least this way he doesn't feel like the bad guy. I'm the crazy bitch who won't leave her mother for her loving boyfriend.”

“You don't know that for sure, Quinn.” He hated seeing her so defeated.

“Have you ever known something yet not known it at the same time?” Quinn asked.

Her words struck Kurt. Hard. He knew just what she was talking about. He'd even used almost the exact same words when talking about how his relationship with Adam had felt.

“God, what a day.”

“You can say that again.”

“What time is it?” Quinn glanced over at Kurt's wall clock and gasped. “I was sure Mom would have called by now. She said she would get hold of me about twenty minutes ago. I’ve been here longer than I expected.”

“Sorry, I should have been home. I held you up.”

“It's fine, Kurt. You didn't know.” Quinn pulled her cell out of her pocket and stared at it. “Besides, I still thought Mom would have called. That's odd. Not even a text.”

The phone started ringing in her hand and she jumped.

_Unknown Number._

Quinn looked up at Kurt and, hands shaking as if she'd somehow guessed what was coming, and answered it.

“Brittany? What is it?”

Kurt strained to hear what was happening on the other end, but he couldn't catch a word of it.

“Oh.” Quinn’s voice shook. “Wh-where?”

He cocked his head, questioning. She shook hers, perhaps a little too vigorously.

“We'll be there soon.” She said. “Thank you for staying with her.”

She didn't end the call. The phone simply dropped from her hand like she lost the ability to grip it. Kurt was there in half a second, taking her hands.

“What happened?”

“Hospital.” Quinn breathed. “It’s Mom.”

…

Kurt only just had time to throw his keys at Blaine and direct him to wait in the apartment until Kurt returned. Then he and Quinn were off, driving as fast as possible to the place where her mother, the only family she had left, was possibly dying from a serious heart attack.

Kurt ached for her. He knew just how he felt, and yet he didn’t know how to calm her down. Despite his sense of helplessness, she seemed to take comfort in his presence, in the knowledge that, years ago, Burt Hummel had been in the same position. And he had pulled through.

“Mom's so much older now.” She whispered. “Older than she was the first time she-”

She broke off and squeezed her eyes shut.

Kurt drove with one hand on the wheel. The other held Quinn's.

…

Mrs. Fabray didn't survive. By the time the pair arrived at the hospital, she was gone. Quinn curled into Kurt's shoulder and gripped him as tight as possible, weeping in earnest now. He stroked her hair back and when she pulled away, nose running, he handed her the box of tissues from the nurse's desk.

They called Finn and Rachel, who left the kids with Burt and Carole and drove to the hospital as quickly as they could. Kurt squeezed Quinn's hand one last time.

“You're so strong, Q.” He told her. “I know you can do this.”

She smiled. A watery smile. But a smile nonetheless.

When Rachel appeared in the doorway, she shoved Kurt aside to envelope her friend in the fiercest hug possible. Finn hovered in the doorway.

“Go home, Kurt. You look exhausted.” He said, clapping him on the shoulder and looking with so much sadness toward the two girls.

“I can stay with you a little longer.”

“Blaine needs you.”

_Blaine._

At the reminder, He felt instantly guilty. He left Quinn without interrupting her hug and practically ran down the stairs, breaking into a sprint across the parking lot to reach his car.

It was 10 p.m. when Kurt checked his phone again. He had six missed calls and a voicemail.

It was the police station in Columbus. Detective Lopez's police station. He was being asked to pick up Blaine Devon Anderson.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

 “I'm here to see Blaine Anderson.” Kurt told the front desk, leaning against it with both hands.

The whole ride over his mind had been cluttered with several different panicked thoughts about why Blaine was at the station in the first place. He couldn't stand the what-ifs and the awful guilt sinking over him for leaving the unstable man alone. How could he live with himself if something had happened after he just abandoned Blaine in his empty apartment?

“Are you Kurt Hummel?” A frantic nod. “Can we see some I.D.?”

Kurt passed it through.

“Is he okay? Is he hurt?” He asked. The men behind the counter looked up, his expression curious.

“You his... boyfriend?” He asked.

“What? No.” Kurt said, brushing the comment away. “Is he okay?”

“If he was hurt he would be at the hospital.” The man told him, a little more gently.

“Right. Of course.” Kurt relaxed a little, his hands gripping the edge less tightly. And then he tensed again. “Is he in trouble?”

“He's just... cooling down.”

The man stood up from his desk and walked through a small door before Kurt could ask what that even meant. He drummed his fingers on the countertop as he waited, impatient to work out what had gone wrong.

Finally, the door opened again, and Blaine stepped out. He looked a mess. His hair was in disarray again, and worse than the first time Kurt had met him and it had simply been free of gel. It was sticking up all over the place, curls hanging into his face. His eyes were red, like he'd been crying. His shirt was crumpled. He looked furious and broken. If this was Blaine “cooled down” then Kurt hated to think what he might have been like a few hours ago.

“I don't want to see you back here again. Do you hear me?” The policeman in front of him looked stern. “You're very lucky that Lopez recognized you and was able to explain some of your situation before we has to restrain you and look it up ourselves.”

Blaine blinked rapidly and averted his eyes, catching Kurt's gaze as he did so. He held it for only a moment, and then dropped it to the floor, walking toward him instead.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked.

Blaine shook his head, marching straight past and out of the door. The policeman caught Kurt before he could follow.

“We found him on a park bench, looking at the kids on the playground. He'd been there for a long time, and one of the parents was suspicious, since he didn't seem to be there with a child of his own. She called us in to check. I walked over to ask him a few questions and he sort of... exploded.”

“So you locked him up?”

“We had to. He was being unreasonable and wouldn't talk to us, so it was necessary to return him to the station first.” The man shook his head. “He's got a lot going on. He needs to talk to someone.”

“And Lopez? How was she involved?”

“Oh, after we brought him in we tried to have a talk with him, but he wouldn't stop shouting. We would have had to restrain him before looking up his records. But Lopez appeared in the doorway, took one look at him, and snapped at him to sit down. He did. Then she fetched his file for us since we hadn't had a chance to look it up ourselves. He's lucky for that, or things might have been more serious than they were.”

“I see.” Kurt pursed his lips, glancing back at the door. “I'll talk to him. Thank you.”

“Just doing my job.” The policeman said. “You make sure he takes care of himself and doesn't get himself into any more struggles with police officers.”

“I will.”

Kurt followed Blaine outside; concerned that he may have disappeared. But he was waiting by the car, head hung like a forlorn puppy. Kurt pressed the button to unlock the doors as he approached.

“I'm sorry I was gone for so long. Her mother was dead when we reached the hospital.” Kurt explained, raking a hand through his hair. “I couldn't just walk out on her.”

The tightness in Blaine's jaw softened.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Is she alone now?”

“Finn and Rachel are looking after her.”

“That's good.” Blaine said. “They're good at making things seem...”

He trailed off and turned to the car, opening the door and clambering into the passenger seat. Kurt walked around and took his own seat, starting up the engine with one more glance at Blaine. He looked as if he was crying again.

They pulled up outside the flat and Blaine followed Kurt up the stairs almost mechanically. When they got inside, he looked around the sparse rooms and the boxes sitting in the midst of the hallway and sighed, slouching off into the living room and slumping into a seat. Kurt felt a little embarrassed at the half-moved-in state of the flat, but he shook it off and followed Blaine. There were more important things to be concerned about.

“Blaine, the crisis plan is there to help you.” He nudged gently. “I know it seems kind of silly, but following the steps might be helpful in the future when you-”

“Helpful?” Blaine half screamed it, half spat it. He sounded utterly disbelieving, unhinged, lost. He yanked a piece of paper from his pocket and tore it aggressively into two pieces. The crisis plan that they had carefully rewritten in a new order and decorated with coloured pens split evenly down the fold in the centre.

Kurt felt tense. He was suddenly hyperaware that he was sitting alone with a furious man who had been a stranger just three days ago. It was strange, because he felt like he had know Blaine at least a decade.

“This thing is supposed to _help_ me.” Blaine said, ripping it a little more as he shook it in his hands. “ _1\. Call someone on your emergency list when you have a suicidal thought._ Well, I had one. So I did what the list said. I called you. Only you didn't pick up your phone. Which I understand but- So next on the list should be my _boyfriend_ and after that it should be my _best friend._ Except it isn't. And it can't be. They aren't on the bloody list. My mother's dead and my father's dying so... so much for parental support. Failing that I went to step two. _2\. Think of something simple that could make you happy right now. If you can't think of anything, pick something on this list._ ”

He clenched the paper in his fist. His whole body was shaking. Kurt was afraid to ask for more information. So he waited.

“Seeing as we had already tried eating food and going for a walk, what else could I do? And then I remembered the playground I saw round the corner from here. And I figured it'd be full of kids, laughing, having a good time. What's happier than that? Fucking adorable, right? So they'll make me fucking happy.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks by now. Kurt was almost trembling himself. “So I sat there. For at least an hour, not feeling very fucking happy. Then this policeman comes along and he asks me- asks me- asks if I'm some kind of pedo. He thinks I'm – I'm some sick fuck who wants to- to gawk at children and- I- I guess I sort of lost it. I -”

He paused again, hands trembling furiously. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. It didn't calm him though, because seconds later he was leaping to his feet.

“You can take your fucking crisis plan and _shove it up your ass.”_

He threw it to the ground as hard as he could, all crumpled up in a ball. He looked as if he was about to storm out, but instead he flung his hands in the air.

“Your friend's boyfriend left her, her mother died, your ex-boyfriend is trying to ruin your life, and you aren't exactly happy yourself. Because there isn’t anything to be happy about.” His voice cracked on the last word and he shook on the spot for a moment, like he was trying to decided whether to flee the room or not. His knees gave way where he stood and he dropped unstably onto the couch.

“Blaine,” Kurt said, his own voice breaking. He faltered, not knowing how he could ever make this any better. He barely recognized this Blaine. He'd only really seen him once before, out on the bridge, when the darkness was surrounding him and Kurt didn't know how to break the surface and let in the light.

It was hard, looking at this shattered shaking heap curled onto his couch, racked with uncontrollable sobs, to remember that all the other parts of Blaine; the sweet, the funny, the romantic, the charming, the enthusiastic, the calm and supportive. Kurt had made a mess of everything. He wasn't cut out for this. How could be ever have thought he could do this?

Kurt took a deep breath, looking at Blaine, trying to slow his own heartbeat. He had to think past the panic inside that had risen with Blaine's shouting, the blur of guilt and fear that had made him unable to think properly. Now, in the quiet, it was easier to start clutching hold of his own sense of calm. He inhaled deeply one more time, closing his eyes, and then opened them.

The smaller man was crying more softly now, his energy spent, a ball of misery on the couch. The sight of him still made Kurt's entire chest clench with the need to help him, protect him, keep him safe from himself. But how could he ever do that? How could he ever be enough?

He remembered something. His father, crouching by his bedside, Kurt's slushie stained clothes in the background. Burt stroking his hair back and telling him he was the strongest person he'd ever met. Kurt sitting up, shaking, saying he had never been so furious. Saying he wanted to hurt the guys who hurt him. Saying he wanted to make them feel as much pain as he felt. Burt understanding. Burt pushing back his hair and saying he was sorry. Burt placing something in his hands and leading him outside.

“I know how angry you are, Blaine. But I think I have something that might help.”

The mop of curls raised, and Blaine's golden eyes met Kurt's. He looked like he was swimming in a pool of emotion, overwhelmed.

Kurt left the room. He collected a carton of six eggs and opened it up. Using a black marker pen, he carefully lifted them, one by one, and wrote on the pristine shells. The names; “Devon Anderson”, “Hunter”, “Sebastian”, “Dad”, “Cooper”, and “Kurt”. He placed them neatly back in their carton and slid open the door leading out onto his small back lawn, flicking on the light to illuminate the expanse of grass. Once again, he was glad that Carole's apartment was laid out the way it was, or he wouldn't have even had a lawn to do this on.

“Come on!” He called to Blaine through the open door.

Blaine stared back.

“Come here.” Kurt said, more firmly, seriously. He needed Blaine to do what he said or this would never work out. Blaine seemed to respond to the command in his voice, because he stood up and followed.

“I have six eggs in here, each representing something that's making you angry. I want you to throw them at the back fence. As hard as you want. Destroy them. Get rid of your anger.” He held out the carton.

“I'm sick of all these tasks.” Blaine sounded tired.

“Fine.” Kurt set it on the ground and stalked back inside.

Even though he wanted very much to shut himself away and escape for a moment, he didn't. He sat in the living room and stared across at one of the unopened boxes which he knew was full of copies of Vogue. He wondered how long it would be before Adam started asking for those, knowing that taking them would really upset Kurt.

Kurt was feeling out of his depth again. The optimism from that morning had faded somewhat. Maybe he _should_ take Blaine to seek professional help. He could tell him that they were going somewhere else and then drive right up to a therapist.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't trick him in any way. He couldn't shatter the trust between them.

Kurt was worried though. He was concerned for the first time that he couldn't deliver on his promise. He may never be able to show Blaine how good life could be. He might be so useless for all twelve of their days that he barely made an impact.

The thought of Blaine killing himself now made Kurt physically ill.

Outside, there was a loud groan, as though someone was in pain. Blaine. Startled, Kurt was on his feet immediately. He sprinted for the door, and then froze in place once he reached it.

In the light shining out over the garden, he could see Blaine, uninjured, couched over the carton, carefully selecting an egg.

He picked one out and got to his feet, turning it over in his hand a few times. Then, with a whooping yell, he flung it at full force against the back fence. It splattered in the most satisfying way.

Looking far more motivated now, Blaine went back to the carton and chose another. He threw it, grunting with the force, and let out an almighty holler as it shattered against the fence.

He repeated the action three more times.

Kurt left him after the second, deciding to watch from his bedroom window. When Blaine was done with the fifth egg, he stood there for a moment, hands on his hips, breathing heavily as he stared at the destruction he had created. Then he stormed back into the house and clattered through some rooms. A moment later, the shower turned on. Kurt heard angry sobs lose themselves under the streaming water.

He went outside to the carton and was surprised to see one egg left. He had assumed he'd missed one being thrown during his walk to the bedroom. Kurt crouched down, lifted up the one remaining egg, and found that it made his eyes fill with tears. The name written in his careful handwriting was his own. “Kurt”.

…

He was in his own bed, propped up on pillows, tense and alert as he waited for Blaine to settle in the guestroom next door, when Blaine appeared in the doorway. On instinct, Kurt pulled the covers a little higher.

The sight made Blaine wince.

“I'm really sorry.” He said. “I promise to work on controlling my temper. I don't usually- I don't want to hurt your feelings. I know you're trying to help.”

“I'll try harder.” Kurt promised.

“No.” Blaine said, face serious, eyes shining with sincerity. “Ignore everything I said before. I was being incredibly rude and I wasn't making any sense. I was just angry and I wanted to take it out on someone. I shouldn't have. You _are_ helping me, Kurt. Thank you.”

Kurt smiled.

Blaine returned it.

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

“Goodnight, Blaine.”

And the other man padded off to bed, his pajamas too long and his curls messy and adorable. Kurt's smile grew.

 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

At 4 a.m. Kurt woke up for the third time that night and couldn't fall asleep again. He couldn't stop thinking about everything Blaine had said the night before. It was clear, from Blaine'sapology, that Kurt was at least helping him. But it was clear from his honest fury that Kurt wasn't yet helping him _enough._

He climbed out of bed and pulled on one of his pre-put-together sets of clothes. He would go to the 24-hour store a few blocks away and be back before morning. It would give him a chance to think.

However, the living room wasn't dark like he had expected. Blaine was sitting on the couch, his face lit up by the light of his laptop. He looked up when Kurt entered, tugging his headphones out of one ear.

“I thought you were asleep.” Kurt said.

“I'm watching _When Harry Met Sally._ ”

It was one of the things written on Blaine's crisis plan. One of the things meant to cheer him up. Kurt saw a bit of paper on the coffee table. It had been flattened out and taped back together.

“Are you okay?” He asked. There wasn't enough light coming from the laptop to read Blaine’s thoughts.

“Where are you going?” Blaine ignored the question.

“I need to get some things. I'll be back in twenty minutes tops. Is that okay?”

Blaine nodded.

…

When Kurt returned, an empty coffee cup and a full bag in his hands, Blaine closed his laptop. He seemed interested. Kurt sat down on the armchair that faced the sofa, and began to empty the bag onto the coffee table. He set up the whiteboard and lined up the marker pens, paper, highlighters, and post-its notes. Kurt liked organisation. It always made him feel on top of things.

Blaine claimed he didn't want emotional help. He claimed that his problems could be solved by fixing the tangible issues in his life. Like getting his teaching job back, and getting his boyfriend back. Kurt figured that, in some ways, that _was_ the best way for them to approach things. They had very little time, and perhaps laying some groundwork by fixing the external problems would leave Blaine on steadier ground to work through his emotional problems. He also had tools for that, like his crisis plan, and Kurt wasn't sure if there was much else he could do at this stage. So he would focus on the external things.

He began to work, drawing charts, making plans, sticking post-it notes to different piles of paper as they formed. He colour-coded his work on the whiteboard in red, blue, green, and black.

“How much coffee have you had?” Blaine asked, too curious to hold it in any longer. He had been watching intently the whole time.

“Too much.” Kurt glanced at the empty cup, and decided not to mention that he'd had one coffee on the way there as well as this one. “But there's no point wasting time right now. Neither of us sleep much, so why not start now?”

“What are we starting?”

“Well, I figured some things out. Like, we have twelve days left. That's two hundred and eighty-eight hours from this point.” He jabbed at one of the piles, and Blaine pulled it closer, staring at the numbers scrawled across the page. “Most people sleep around eight hours each night – I know we don't really, but that's the average – so that makes it sixteen hours a day we have to work on these problems. It leaves us one hundred ninety-two hours. And, well, actually, it's four a.m. now so we cut that down to eleven days.”

Blaine stared at the number circled over and over at the bottom of the page.

“I think you're having a nervous breakdown.”

“Nonsense.” Kurt scoffed. “ _This_ is what proper planning looks like. I'm making progress.”

“Okay.” Blaine said. “It's just – it's a lot.”

“Yes. Now, go and put on something warm and pack a change of clothes as well.”

“What?”

“Go, Blaine!” Kurt said.

Blaine did as he said, looking incredibly bemused at the sudden flurry of activity. Kurt sat there a little longer and finished the last chart he was creating. He put it down on the appropriate pile and grabbed the last post-it before heading through to the kitchen. Blaine was still getting changed, so he dug out the flashlight from a box, pulled on an extra coat that was hanging behind the door, and waited.

When Blaine came out, he looked adorable in a big bright red duffle coat with his curls slightly tamed and a grey scarf covered in patterns of little red-chested robins. It was unbelievable how he managed to pull off the most ridiculous outfits.

“It's four in the morning.” He said slowly. But he looked excited despite his words.

Kurt rolled his eyes and nudged him out of the front door.

...

They returned to the park. It was, perhaps, not the safest place to be at four thirty, in total darkness. Kurt switched on the flashlight and hopped cheerfully out of the car, rubbing his hands together to stay warm.

“You're crazy.” Blaine said, shaking his head as he followed Kurt down the path. “Isn't this, like, super dangerous?”

“Absolutely.” Kurt said. “But I'm big and strong and I'll protect you.”

He nudged his hip against Blaine's, the dark making him feel bold. Blaine laughed, but he stayed close, a little nervous in the shadows.

“What _are_ we doing?” He asked after they'd been walking for a while, Kurt using the flashlight and his knowledge of the park to guide them through.

“We are going to win Sebastian back.”

“What?”

Kurt didn't tell him anything more. He just smiled and directed his flashlight up at one of the signs leading them through the park. It pointed out the way to the pond, and he quickly followed it downhill, Blaine on his heels.

“This is scary.” He complained. “I don't want to die like this, both of us knocked off in the middle of the night by some drunk in a park.”

“We're almost there.” Kurt told him, pulling out onto flat ground and smiling as he heard the gentle lapping of water ahead.

The lights were on here, making the last bit of path brighter and shining over the pond. Kurt could see that they continued down the path to light other parts of the park. Perhaps he should have come in by the main gate.

“See? Just what we need.” He told Blaine brightly, pointing at the water.

“We came all this way to look at a pond.” He said slowly, looking over at Kurt in confusion.

“Don't be silly. We came here for a _lily pad._ ”

“Excuse me?”

“Why else do you think I told you to bring a change of clothes?”

“It's _four thirty_ and _the middle of winter._ ” Blaine gasped. “I'd probably die of hypothermia.”

Kurt chuckled softly at the expression on his face.

“Fine, I see how this has to go...”

He pulled off his coat, and instantly the wind chilled him right to his bones.

“You're _not_ going in there.”

“One of us has to.” Kurt shrugged. He took a deep breath and built up the courage to remove another layer, leaving him in only a thin long sleeved v-neck. Blaine was watching him with a mix of awe and fascination and, damn it, he was blushing again.

He sat down to take off his shoes, and as he did, he looked around the pond to find the right water lily. It had to be perfect; round and green and clean. It had to be the sort of lily pad that Sebastian could keep around for a while, gazing at fondly as he thought about Blaine.

“Kurt, seriously, if you get sick -”

Kurt tuned him out. He'd spotted the perfect plant already. Glad that he wasn't wearing skin-tight jeans, he hitched up his pants, rolling them over and over until they came up past his knees.

He figured it would take about ten seconds to get over there, yank it out, and come back. He even had a pair of nail scissors, which he pulled out of his pocket now, just in case he needed to cut off the stem.

“You're actually doing this. Oh my god.”

Kurt grabbed a stick and put it in the water to test the depth. It stopped halfway and he relaxed a little. He wouldn't even have to swim. It would probably just come up past his knees. He'd get his pants a little wet, but it was worth it.

“Look, Kurt. There's one right here by the edge. I can grab it now. No one has to go in the water.” Blaine pleaded.

Kurt gave the lily pad a disdainful look.

“It's grungy and tattered. Is Sebastian going to look at that and think of how much he loves you? No. It looks diseased.” He turned up his nose. “It even has a cigarette butt. No way. I'm getting _that_ one.”

He pointed.

Blaine groaned.

“You really don't ha-”

“Shh.”

“You'll freeze.”

“And then I will dry off and warm up.” He gave Blaine’s knee a pat and stepped forward. For a moment, he paused, readying himself for the cold, already shivering in the wind.

He plunged in.

The water instantly soaked him up past his waist. His stick had lied. Or got caught on a rock. He gasped from the cold, feeling it right through his bones. Blaine laughed, startled, from behind him.

Now that he was in, Kurt saw no reason to stop. He pressed on, wading out through the murky water. He did not want to think about slimy layers her could feel underfoot, some squelching mix of pond gunk and whatever else had been thrown in though the years. Thank god it wasn't a fish pond. If something living touched him under the water right now, he would probably scream.

Kurt reached the lily pad, pushing past others to get there. He snipped away at the stem and quickly freed it, turning and taking great strides across the mushy floor to the side.

Blaine reached out his hands and pulled Kurt ashore, eyes shining with admiration that Kurt didn't even notice. He was shaking so hard he was practically vibrating. Sloshing along, water pouring off his body, he walked up to the bag Blaine had carried from the car. Inside was Blaine’s change of clothes and, past that, a towel.

“Here let me get it.” Blaine said quickly.

He darted past and pulled out the towel as fast as he could.

With a soft smile, he stood and wrapped it snugly around the other man's shoulders.

Kurt's trembling fingers clutched it closer around his chin. His teeth chattered as Blaine cooed softly and grabbed a second towel, running it through Kurt's hair for him. They stood like that for a moment, the wind blowing around them and the water continuing to drip to the ground, as Blaine slowly stopped moving and his hand dropped, coming to rest on Kurt's shoulder, towel still bunched in his fist. Kurt still couldn't believe the unreal way that his eyes shone. With their faces this close together, he could see every detail of his irises. His heart was beating very quickly. Perhaps it was just the cold. Or perhaps it was the way that Blaine's eyebrows drew up in the middle as he stared seemingly straight into Kurt's soul.

“I have to get changed.” He blurted, too abrupt, his voice still high from the cold.

“Oh, of course, I'm sorry.” Blaine let go of the towel and stepped back. He politely turned the other way, giving Kurt some privacy. He seemed unaffected by their moment, humming softly to himself as he shone the flashlight across to some trees.

Kurt managed to dress himself past the trembling in his hands. He pulled Blaine's spare pants on, thankful that they were loose fitting and slightly embarrassed that he was no longer wearing underwear, his own soaked. He couldn't help smiling at how they ended almost halfway down his calves. He yanked Blaine's t-shirt over his head and it fit snug across his shoulders, short enough on him to show a sliver of skin. He quickly covered it with his own layers, the ones he had stripped off before.

“Are you decent?” Blaine called.

“Yeah,” Kurt said. He winced, because he still sounded like a twelve year old girl.

Blaine came back to him again and quickly dug in the bag one more time. He pulled out a woollen beanie and plonked it onto Kurt's head, carefully arranging his hair under it before tugging it down further. He grinned.

“You suit this.”

“Hmph. Don't get used to it.” Kurt complained, but he didn't really mind. It was keeping his head so warm, the wind no longer whipping his hair around. And he did look good in beanies. He wasn't too proud to admit that.

“You're so _cold_.” Blaine said.

He ran his hands up and down Kurt's arms a few times and then drew him into a tight hug. Kurt pressed into his arms, sighing deeply at the break from the wind. His heart was still pounding. He found himself thinking of the first time they met; when Kurt couldn't possibly have let go; when holding onto Blaine meant the difference between life and death.

It was strange though, how someone he had known for so little time could feel so familiar.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked, voice right in Kurt's ear.

Kurt nodded. He felt Blaine's arms wrap a little tighter.

Too soon, their moment was shattered by the sound of voices from nearby; deep, male, and menacing. Blaine go of Kurt quickly, looking around nervously.

“I'm still kind of scared.” He said. Kurt laughed.

“Come on then. Let's get out of here.”

…

Running back to the car warmed him up a little, and as soon as he had the engine on, Blaine was cranking up the heater. Kurt held his hands out to it, teeth still chattering.

“I shouldn't have let you do that for me.”

“I'm fine.” Kurt said, glad that at least his voice had returned to normal.

“We should go back to the flat. I'll make you a coffee and you can curl up on the couch with some blankets or-”

“No.” Kurt shook his head. “We're getting coffee at this 24 hour cafe I know and then we have to keep driving. There's one more thing we need to do.”

“That's insane. You're frozen.”

“I'm warming up already.” Kurt said, determined.

Blaine looked down at the perfect lily pad in his lap, and then back up at his companion.

“You know we can't give this to Sebastian right now. He'll be asleep.”

“That's not where we're going.”

“Then what-”

Kurt pulled open the glove box and tapped the book resting inside. Blaine took it out, recognising it as their guide book right away. He flipped to chapter three.

_Watch the sunrise._

…

They cradled their cheap cups of coffee, kept the heater running on high, pushed their seats back, and rolled down the windows to stop them from fogging up. The car was parked just outside the city, overlooking the best part of the horizon Kurt had been able to find, waiting for the sun to come up and paint the sky for them.

“Lights. Camera. Action.” Blaine murmured, using his hands to frame the view in front of them like the biggest dork in the world.

Kurt grinned, watching as the first bright glimmer of the sun peaked out over the peach sky that had been slowly bleeding into the indigo night. He heard the crackle of paper and turned around. Blaine was holding out one of the brown paper bags they'd also purchased from the 24-hour store. Wafting from inside was the intoxicating smell of cinnamon and apple.

Kurt scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“Come on. You're the one who made me buy these.” Blaine said encouragingly, reaching inside the bag as soon as Kurt refused. He took a large exaggerated bite. “The cinnamon is so cinnamonny and the apple is very appley. I'm sure you'll love it.”

He waved the bag under Kurt's nose.

With a large sigh, Kurt accepted his own cinnamon roll. It was, after all, the whole point of helping Blaine on his journey. He had to participate in it as well.

“Food.” Blaine said, jabbing a finger at him. “Fun.”

“I regret ever helping you.” Kurt said lightly, taking a bite. It actually tasted good. But way too heavy. He didn't like the idea of finishing the whole thing.

“But I'm doing so well. Look at me. I'm enjoying a nice breakfast and appreciating all the flavors.” His voice turned robotic. “I am partaking in all the joys of life. I am being happy.”

“You're getting the hang of it.” Kurt chose to ignore the sarcasm.

Blaine snorted and looked back out at the sunset.

“So, tell me something else you did for Sebastian.” Kurt prompted. He wanted to keep the conversation rolling and focused on things that made Blaine happy.

“Why?”

“I want to know.” He refrained from mentioning the fact that it was hard for him to _stop_ thinking about all the things Blaine had done.

“Well he -uh – he always really liked watching me perform. But in my final year of high school I was so busy all the time. So I asked the Warblers, our glee club, if we could hand solos to others more frequently and I would step back from being permanent lead singer. Sebastian was mad about it. Not much, but enough to make it our first real fight. He thought I was throwing away important opportunities because I was scared that I couldn't manage things.” Blaine had a faraway look in his eye. “And in a way he was right. I often self-sabotage like that. If I'm scared something will be too much or won't work out, then I try and destroy any chance of it happening in the first place.”

He folded up the bag with his half finished cinnamon roll and set it on the dashboard, coughing awkwardly to hide a slight tremble to his voice.

“Anyway, Sebastian got angry, and then I got angry, and we had a falling out. Our very first big argument that ended in one of us storming out. I was shattered.” He stopped suddenly.

“And then?”

“Well, that weekend, Seb was going shopping. So I went to the mall. I brought some of the Warblers with me. Out of uniform. And in every single shop he entered, we went all out with a different impromptu performance for him. I think it ended up being about thirteen in total.” He smiled. “By the end of the day he dragged me aside and pretty much told me I was insane and he loved it. I apologised properly then, and admitted he'd been sort of right. And he apologised and said it was his business to support me anyway, and he'd be happy if I stopped singing forever after the overload of that afternoon.”

Kurt laughed, and it made Blaine glance at him bashfully.

“It was a really great end to our first fight. Sebastian was still getting used to having a full-time serious boyfriend back in those days.” He looked down at his lap, his smile bittersweet.

“You'll get him back, Blaine.” Kurt said, feeling upset without fully understanding why.

“I hope so.”

They were quiet again as they watched the sky. The sun was too bright to look at directly anymore. It was well and truly morning.

“You feel okay right now?” Kurt asked, turning the key and starting the car again.

“Oh totally.” Blaine snarked. “I no longer feel the need to kill myself.”

Kurt saw the attempt at the joke, and so he replied lightly.

“Mm, I thought so. May as well head home then.”

…

Kurt sat a little tensely in his kitchen as he cleaned up the lily pad. He'd washed it in the sink and now he was using one of his many different polishes to get it buffed up to an impressive shine. On the table beside him, his phone was sitting, and the time had just passed 8 a.m. That could only mean one thing.

His phone beeped.

Adam had left a voicemail.

“Is that him?” Blaine asked, appearing in the doorway as if the small noise had personally called him in.

“Yes.”

“Just like clockwork.” Blaine said in amazement, staring at the time on the clock on the oven. “It's only four past eight and he manages to leave a message again. Why always around this time?”

“It's when he's finished getting ready and he's in the kitchen, waiting for the tea bag to finish soaking and, I guess, thinking about me.”

Kurt could feel Blaine's eyes on him, and so he kept on polishing the lily pad, pretending the situation wasn't entirely ludicrous.

The phone beeped again.

“Are you going to listen to them?”

Kurt set down the lily pad and looked up.

“Probably.”

“Is it to remind yourself why you left him?”

“No. He-he was never like this before. He was a totally different person.” Kurt hesitated, and then plunged on, deciding to continue being honest. “I listen to the messages because it's like my punishment. Everything he says that hurts me is- it's forcing me to earn my freedom.”

“You're kind of a masochist.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Can I listen first?” Blaine asked, waiting for Kurt's nod before he picked up the phone.

Kurt watched as he listened to the message. His expression was fascinating, eyebrows lifting and looking entirely triangular before lowering into a frown that creased his forehead, his mouth dropping open and snapping closed for him to purse his lips. He laughed as the message neared its end and put the phone down, eager to share what he had just heard.

“You'll love this one.” He said, laughing. “He was talking about some friend of yours from the office, Kitty or something. He pretty much told you he always sees her with different guys, and even, last month, with one who he knows is already married.”

“How is that funny?”

“His delivery was hilarious. It's like he's making up the insults as they go along. And, you know, kind of so shocking you have to laugh.” Blaine picked up the phone again. “Maybe that's just the accent.”

“You're so weird.”

“I've always loved English accents.” Blaine explained, before blocking his other ear to listen to the next message.

The grin dropped from his face and the sparkle in his eyes vanished.

Kurt's stomach churned.

Thirty seconds later, Blaine jumped down from the counter where he was leaning and handed Kurt the phone, not meeting his eyes as he tried to flee the room.

“What did he say?” Kurt demanded, following.

“Nothing interesting.”

“ _Blaine._ ”

He shook his head, offered a regretful smile, and turned away.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.” Blaine repeated, shaking his head. “It was just a ramble of angry... anger.”

Kurt didn't like the look on his face. He couldn't decipher exactly what Blaine was feeling, be it sympathy or regret or something else entirely.

Blaine sat on the couch and picked up his own phone, thumbing listlessly through his emails.

Kurt dialled his voicemail.

“ _You have no new messages.”_

He froze. His arm dropped to his side.

“Blaine,” He said, voice dangerous. “Did you delete my messages?”

“Did I?” He replied, looking up with those hopelessly innocent puppy-dog eyes of his. “I'm so sorry.”

“You did it on purpose.” Kurt growled.

“Did I?”

“Tell me what he said.”

“I told you. Your friend Kitty is a slut.”

“The _second_ message.”

“I really can't remember it.”

“Blaine.” Kurt felt so frustrated he could have started crying. “They're _my fucking messages_. Tell me what he said!”

Kurt's shouting did not make Blaine cower and give in, like he had hoped. Instead, he just softened even more, looked at him with more pity.

“You-” He bit his lip. “You don't want to know. Okay?”

Kurt wracked his brains to work out what personal information Adam might have revealed. He turned on his heel and stormed out in a way Rachel would have been proud of. Alone in his room, he flopped down onto the bed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, blinking back angry tears.

…

Sometimes Blaine would shut himself off entirely. He would stop in the middle of something, just in the gap when any normal conversation fell into a lull, and become swamped by his emotions. He would stare at some point in the middle distance and become consumed.

That's exactly what happened after Kurt yelled at him about the voicemails.

When Kurt returned, he found Blaine sitting on the couch, eyes fixed on the centre of the wall. He tried to talk to him, but Blaine was so unresponsive. So Kurt decided he had better catch up on chores that he might not have time for later in the week. He walked around the apartment and worked on routine cleaning. Every now and then, he would glance back into the living room, only to find that Blaine never moved.

After an hour, he couldn't stand it any longer. He couldn't let Blaine stay buried in his darkest thoughts.

“Come on.” Kurt threw his red coat at him. “Let's go.”

“I'm not in the mood.” Blaine said, looking up at him like he was coming out of a fog.

“Yes you are. I think I know how you're feeling and I think I know a good solution for now.”

“What?”

“Do you want to disappear?”

“Yes,” Blaine's voice was small.

“Well come on. We're going to disappear.”

…

Blaine waited in the car while Kurt walked up the front path to Rachel and Finn's house. Three-year-old Elphie was sitting right inside the open front door playing with a toy plane, her car seat waiting beside her.

Elphie was what Kurt liked to call "The Spawn of Rachel Berry". Rachel and Finn had her only ten months after getting married, and it had been a bit of an overwhelming surprise for the whole family. Still, they all loved her to death. Kurt had fallen into the routine of coming to pick her up for some uncle-niece bonding every week. He used to take her out to this kids indoor playground and watch in horror as she bounced roughly around ball pits and inflatable jungles and smashed into other children in the process. But one day, on their way to the play centre, Kurt had begun asking her which turn he should take at the traffic lights to see if she was paying attention. She had guided him correctly the first two times he did this (“Such a clever girl.” Rachel always said proudly. “You know she canalready count _so_ high and she knows a lot of the alphabet.) But the third time, when Kurt asked her which way they should turn at the lights, she had called out “Right!” instead of left. Not in a hurry to see her pumped through the whirling hurricane of mess and rowdy children, he did as she said. For an hour they drove around, taking all of Elphie's directions. It was sort of enjoyable. And after that, it had become their new tradition.

He was also incredibly glad that their usual play date had intersected with this particular day. It was clear that Blaine adored children, and that they usually made him happy. By spending some time with Elphie, he would be able to experience that _without_ getting arrested.

“Hello Elphaba.” Kurt always greeted her with her full name. It made her feel important. Like an adult.

“Hi, poo poo.”

“What are you doing out here on your own?”

“Waiting for you. Mommy's singing a poo poo.” Elphie said happily, swinging her legs.

Kurt’s brow furrowed a moment before he suddenly remembered what Finn had told him a few days ago; Elphie was going through that phase where she found toilet humour really _really_ funny.

“Kurt, are you here?” Rachel poked her head around the door.

“Hey Rachel,” He said. “I'm just picking up Elphie.”

“See you later sweet cheeks.” Rachel chirped, leaning down to ruffle Elphie's hair and plant a kiss on the top of her head. “I'm sorry I can't invite you inside, Kurt. I'm supposed to be helping Finn teach a lesson on ballads in his glee club next Monday, and I'm totally not ready.”

“That's fine Rachel. We have a full day planned.” Kurt reached out for the car seat and then took Elphie's hand. “We'll see you later.”

“Bye poo poo!” Elphie squealed.

“Elphie, honey, please be polite.” Rachel yelled.

Kurt laughed along with his niece. They ran back to his car and opened the back door. Blaine was lounging across the backseat, and quickly straightened up. Kurt plunked the car seat down in the space where his feet used to be, and then started strapping Elphie into it.

“This is Elphie. She's Finn and Rachel's daughter.” Kurt introduced her. “Elphie, this is Blaine. He's going to get lost with us today.”

“Is he your prince charming, poo poo?”

“No, poo poo, he isn't.” Kurt replied, playing along with her game. She giggled loudly, delighted.

Blaine seemed to be distant still, but he broke off from staring out the window to glance at the adorable three-year-old sitting beside him. Elphie looked at him in return, seeming to size him up.

“How has your morning been so far?”

“Good, poo poo.”

“Are you going to say poo poo in every sentence?”

“Yes, wee wee.”

Blaine looked puzzled, but amused.

“Is Elphie short for Elphaba?” He said suddenly. While making his crisis plan, Blaine had already been told that Kurt and Rachel loved Broadway, so it wasn't a hard guess to make.

“Yeah, it is.” Kurt smiled at him in the mirror.

“That's really cool, Elphie.”

“You are.” She sing-songed, kicking her feet. Blaine laughed.

“How old are you?” He asked.

Elphie held up four fingers.

“Four!” Blaine exclaimed, as if it was the most exciting news he'd ever heard.

“She's actually three.”

“And clearly a liar.” Blaine gasped, pouting at Elphie and making her let out a peal of laughter.

“Pinocchio!” Elphie squealed.

There was a pause.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked.

“Left!” Elphie declared.

Kurt flicked on his turn signal and followed her instructions.

“She knows the directions?” Blaine asked, amazed.

“Yup!” Elphie said, popping her lips on the 'p'.

“How? You're three? That's amazing!”

“I know _all_ the ways. To everywhere.” Elphie said seriously. “Want to go to poo poo street?”

She cackled with laughter as Blaine shook his head in disbelief.

Kurt chuckled at them both. Elphie had always been such a vivacious, bubbly child. She was always brimming with endless cheerfulness (or in full tantrum throwing mode). Something about the combination of Finn's endless optimism and Rachel's constant energy made her that way. She seemed to be distracting Blaine wonderfully.

Elphie kept yelling out the turns as Kurt came to them.

“Can I ask exactly where we're going?” Blaine asked again.

“Left!”

“I know, but left to where?”

“This is how we get lost, Blaine.” Kurt explained.

“What?”

“We just keep driving until we get lost.”

“How often do you do this?” Blaine asked.

“About once a week. The only rule is that the highway is off limits.” Kurt explained, looking at him in the mirror as he absorbed the information.

“That's pretty cool.” He said. “Okay, now turn right!”

“Not that way, poo poo!” Elphie laughed.

“I’m sorry.” Blaine said. “What way should we go instead.”

“Left.” Elphie said.

Kurt took Elphie's directions and Blaine fell silent. As time wore on, they seemed to get closer and closer to the edge of town. Elphie was now singing quietly to herself as they continued driving, inserting her orders every now and then.

“I want to give some directions.” Blaine requested quietly.

“No!” Elphie snapped.

“ _Elphie,_ ” Kurt scolded.

“Can I pretty please give the directions, poo poo?” Blaine asked her.

She giggled.

“Okay.”

“Right, Kurt, take a left up here.”

“You can't take us to Sebastian's house.” Kurt warned.

“I'm not.”

Kurt turned the car and burst out laughing.

“It's a dead end.” He said, looking back over his shoulder at them. “I'm sorry. This has never happened before.”

“Don't worry, poo poo.” Elphie crooned, taking pity on him and patting his arm. “You try again.”

“Okay, um,” Blaine peered back over his shoulder. “Hey, there's a road down that way.”

Kurt found the spot he was pointing at while he backed the car out.

“That's a dirt track. It could lead anywhere.”

“Isn't that the point?”

“True.” Kurt acknowledged. He pulled onto the road.

“So, Elphie, do you know songs from Wicked?” Blaine asked.

“Yes!” She lit up at the mention of music. Kurt smiled into the rear view mirror. She was so like her mother sometimes it never failed to amuse him. Especially with those big brown eyes and bouncing pigtails. “I love them. Mommy sings them.”

“What's your favourite?” Blaine asked.

“Pop-u-lar!” Elphie sang.

“I like that one too.” Blaine agreed. He cleared his throat and started to sing, Elphie quickly joining in with just as much enthusiasm.

Before Kurt could start singing along, a phone began to ring beside him.

It wasn't his phone. It was Blaine's. He glanced over his shoulder at the two singers in the back and then gave in to his impulse and answered it, holding it up to his ear with the hand that wasn't steering the car.

“Hello, this is Blaine's phone.” He answered.

“Oh, hi,” Sebastian's voice sounded a little flat. “It's you again.”

“Hello.” Kurt replied, avoiding using Sebastian's name in case Blaine heard and grabbed for the phone. He was pretty sure his new friend wasn't ready to actually talk to his ex again. Not yet.

“Are you like a messaging service now?” Sebastian asked, his tone lazy and teasing, but hiding something sharp.

“Sure feels like it.” Kurt laughed lightly. He knew how to deal with it when people like Sebastian decided to act bitchy. “Can I take a message?”

“Well, I wanted to speak to Blaine.” He paused, giving Kurt the chance to hand him over.

“He can't – uh – can't make it to the phone right now. But I'd be happy to pass on whatever you need to say.” Behind him, he could see that Blaine and Elphie weren't paying any attention to his call.

“Did you tell him what I said yesterday? That we didn't mean to hurt him like this?”

“Of course.”

“Why hasn't he called me back then?”

Kurt felt a prickle of annoyance. He didn't like the tone Sebastian was taking. As if he was entitled to hear from Blaine again after everything he'd put him through. If he'd wanted to talk to him, maybe he should have done so _before_ he moved down the path toward breaking Blaine's heart.

“Left!” Blaine yelled, breaking off the song halfway through as they approached another intersection.

“Right!” Elphie protested.

“No!” Blaine shouted over her. “Go left!”

He covered her mouth with his hand before she could deny his request again and she squealed with laughter, trying to kick him and squirm away at the same time. Blaine threw back his head and laughed. It turned into a yelp when Elphie licked his hand.

Kurt smothered his own giggles at what he could see in the rear view mirror and tried to continue his serious conversation.

“You can hardly blame him after what he found out.” He said gently, keeping any judgement from his voice.

“Yeah, I deserve that, I guess.” Sebastian sighed. Kurt could sense how weary he felt. “Is that him I can hear?”

“It is.” Kurt said. He thought it would be good for Sebastian to realize that Blaine still had the capacity to enjoy himself.

“Go right this time!” Blaine bellowed, covering Elphie's mouth again. She wriggled. “Nope, don't lick me again, Miss Elphaba.”

He withdrew his hand sharply with a gasp of mock outrage.

“She _bit_ me.”

Elphie barked like a dog several times and followed it with her most impressive growl.

“I'll tell him you called.” Kurt said into the phone. “As you can hear, he's sort of in the middle of something.”

“Okay.” Sebastian didn't sound happy.

“Actually, where can he reach you?” Kurt asked, subtly trying to find out the information they needed to deliver the lily pad later that day.

“I'm working late so he can call the office, or just get me on my cell.” Sebastian paused. “Is he still – this is a stupid question, but – is he still mad at me? I would be.”

Kurt was about to answer, trying to think of the best thing to say, when Sebastian spoke again.

“Never mind. You know what; I'll talk to him later anyway. Thanks.”

He hung up. Kurt tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat.

“Who was that?” Blaine asked, talking over Elphie's loud and (for a child her age) surprisingly good rendition of _For Good._

“Sebastian.”

“Sebastian? You answered my phone?”

“Do you feel ready to talk to him again?”

“No,” Blaine admitted. “But you could have told me.”

“Then you would have stopped laughing. And your laugh should never be interrupted prematurely.” He tried not to blush and probably failed. “Besides, this way he thinks you're still having fun.”

“I want him to know that I miss him.”

“He knows, Blaine.” Kurt looked back over his shoulder and offered him a sad smile.

Blaine returned it and averted his eyes, looking out if his window again.

“Oh my god, Kurt! Look out!” He screamed suddenly, face lighting with panic.

Kurt whipped his head back to the front. Right in front of him, someone's dog was darting out across the road. Acting on instinct without any chance to think about it, losing every ounce of knowledge he had about how to take care of his car, he slammed on the breaks and spun the steering wheel to the left. The wheels furiously churned up gravel as the breaks screamed in response to Kurt slamming his foot down. The car careened across on a diagonal to the edge of the road, the dog scampering the last few feet onto the other side and disappearing from sight. Kurt felt his seatbelt jerk against his chest and pin him in place as he automatically tried to drive sideways and backward toward Elphie, every muscle in his body tensed to try and save the two people behind him. The car shook mightily as its front wheel thunked into the gutter and lodged itself firmly in the mud, all three seatbelts snapping them back against their occupants.

They were finally still.

For a long, shell-shocked moment, the three of them sat there, breathing heavily.

Then Kurt turned backward, recovering the fastest.

“Oh god, Elphie, Blaine, are you okay?” He said in a choked voice, fumbling over his own seatbelt as he unbuckled it and reached out toward his niece.

Blaine had his arm across her chest; his whole body bent that way to shield her from the crash they'd both been expecting. Kurt clambered clumsily into the back of the car, wedging himself between them, wrapping an arm around Elphie and clutching Blaine's hand with the other. Blaine squeezed his fingers.

“Oh my god. I'm sorry.” Kurt gulped, burying his face in Elphie's hair. “I'm so sorry.”

“Its okay, Kurt.” Blaine said. “We're all okay.”

Kurt wasn't breathing evenly. He pressed Elphie closer, kissing every inch of her head he could reach.

And then Blaine started laughing,

At first, Kurt could only stare at him, disbelieving.

Beside him, little Elphie kicked her feet and started cackling as well, clapping her pudgy little hands together. And then he felt his own hysterical giggling bubbling up.

“Oh my god,” He breathed, relief trickling into his voice. His limbs felt like they were made of jelly. They were _alive_. They were all still alive. He leaned his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine held his hand a little tighter and rested his cheek against the crown of Kurt's head. Elphie beamed at them and giggled, enjoying their breathless, thankful laughter.

“I can't believe that just happened.” Kurt shook his head, practically panting as his heart rate returned to normal. “Holy shi- I mean poo. Holy poo.”

“Poo poo poo!” Elphie chanted, not fully understanding what had just happened.

The two adults doubled over with more laughter, unable to contain themselves, shivering with the after effects of adrenaline and fear.

…

When they dropped Elphie off, it seemed that Rachel had finished preparing her lesson plan and was waiting for them with a scary sparkle in her eye.

“Blaine, please sit down.” She said, pulling out a chair at the table so there was no way that he could refuse. Kurt wished he'd left him in the car.

“Rachel, please be gentle with the interrogation.” He asked, falling into his own chair. Rachel gave Elphie a mug of hot chocolate and sat her at the island bench in her high chair, ensuring she wouldn't disrupt them.

“I'm always gentle.” She protested, taking her own seat. As Kurt rolled his eyes, she turned to Blaine. “So, has my dear brother in law convinced you to enjoy life?”

“So far we've eaten food, walked in a park, and driven around with Elphie, to name a few things.” Blaine said, smiling nervously in Kurt's direction as if asking for back up. He was incredibly polite with Rachel though. Kurt was impressed.

“How was the food?” She asked.

“Made me feel really bloated to be honest.”

“Interesting.” She tapped her chin with one painted fingernail. “And the walk?”

“Cold.” He suddenly looked mischievous. “I also went to another park later and I got arrested.”

“No. You got put in a cell to cool down.” Kurt corrected him, glad he could find humour in the situation already, but annoyed that Rachel felt the need to check up on his progress.

“The drive also ended in us nearly dying.” Blaine said cheerfully.

Rachel's eyes grew wide. She looked between Elphie and Kurt, pressing her lips together in a very frightening way.

“I swerved for a dog.” Kurt said quickly. “Took me by surprise. _Elphie_ is fine. I promise. Would I really ever let anything happen to her?”

Rachel relaxed. She nodded curtly and then jabbed a finger in Blaine's direction, already distracted by some other thought.

“This party of yours, is it dressy? Black tie?”

“Black tie.” Blaine told her.

“Excellent. I saw the most beautiful dress and I was desperate for an excuse to buy it. Kurt, even you will approve.”

“Hm. We'll see.” He said. You never really knew with Rachel.

“Well then, you'd better leave. It's time for Elphie's dinner and if you stick around you're bound to get food thrown at you.” She clapped her hands. “Off you go.”

Blaine followed Kurt out the door, an amused light in his eyes. For once, Kurt didn't feel too embarrassed by his mad family members. He could only feel relieved that Blaine was alive and smiling and happy.

His smile fell as soon as they reached the curb, and found the windshield of his car had been completely smashed in.

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

Sebastian worked in a very modern high rise designed to look like stacks of ice shards. Kurt was reluctantly impressed. He took a moment to gaze up at it before moving toward the doors to take care of the lily pad's delivery. Blaine was watching from a careful vantage point by a garden area with a view straight through the large windows to the lobby. He was under strict instructions to stay exactly where he was, no matter what happened between Sebastian and Kurt inside.

Kurt felt odd about meeting Sebastian. _The_ Sebastian. The man he knew intimate things about yet had only spoken to twice on the phone and never seen so much as a photograph of before. The man who was one of the main reasons that Blaine, rather beautiful Blaine, had ended up hanging off the edge of a bridge.

As Kurt walked in, the polished secretary looked up from her desk and eyed his outfit skeptically. He was probably dressed too flamboyantly for a place that seemed to be frequented by business men in cliché suits. With its long glass covered walls and pretentious artwork, it was pretty clear that it was made to show off the wealth of the people who worked there.

Of _course_ Sebastian would be employed in a place like this.

Kurt realized, as he clutched the bag with the lily pad closer to his chest, that he resented Sebastian.

What perfect timing.

He couldn't help it though. It irked him to think about the power Sebastian held over the man he had once loved, and his apparent obliviousness to the full extent of the effect of his rejections. He didn't even realize how much effort Blaine was going through just to get him back. He was just sitting up there in his fancy office, calling Blaine's cell phone as if this was something they could merely talk about and resolve in one conversation. He had no idea. No idea how much heart his ex was pouring into his attempts to fix their broken relationship.

Rationally, of course, Kurt could see that it wasn't actually entirely Sebastian's fault. Neither he nor Blaine had communicated effectively with one another. It was a combination of both influences that caused their relationship to fall apart.

Kurt also felt that it would be healthier to help Blaine move on, not try to win Sebastian back. He didn't like pushing together two people who might not be happy together ever again. He was annoyed that he didn't have more _time_. If he had more time he could make Blaine understand that there were other ways to move on. He could teach him to value himself outside of a relationship.

But he didn't have more time. And he had to focus on solving the immediate problems as quickly as he could.

And so, apparently, his brain had decided to direct his resentment toward Sebastian.

“I'm looking for Sebastian Smythe, of Smythe and Associates at Law.” Kurt told the woman at the desk.

“Who should I say is asking?” She said, still wearing her most intimidating fake-welcoming smile.

“Blaine Anderson.” Kurt said.

“Please take a seat. This will only be a moment.” She gestured to the abstract looking chairs along the wall.

Kurt stood rather than sitting in the horrific attempts at combining modern art and furniture. He set a hand on one hip and tried to look as aloof as possible, like he belonged in the fancy office building and didn't feel like a nervous wreck.

After a few minutes, the elevator doors sprung open and out stepped a tall, almost aggressively laid back man with a hand in one pocket, and only a hopeful quirk to his mouth giving away the fact that he was nervous as well. He had a sort of snarky charm to him. Kurt imagined that with Blaine's sweet, mischievous beauty and Sebastian's smug handsomeness, they would have made a striking couple. Again, that resentful feeling reared its ugly head.

Sebastian looked around, clearly expecting Blaine.

When the only other person in the room was Kurt, his eyes lingered over him for a second, a smirk appearing on his face as he very blatantly checked him out. He clearly didn't connect him to the voice on the phone. Then he turned to the receptionist and said.

“Did he leave a note or something?”

“He's right over there.” The receptionist waved a manicured hand toward Kurt, not really paying attention. Sebastian looked puzzled. He walked toward Kurt though, and Kurt quickly pulled the lily pad out of the bag at his side.

Sebastian froze, stared at it. His face broke out into a broad smile and he jogged the last few feet to Kurt's side.

“Oh my god.” He gasped, reaching for it and laughing delightedly. He turned it twice in his hands and threw back his head to cackle as loudly as possible. Kurt smiled. He could see the receptionist shooting them a weird look, and he could just imagine her spreading the gossip that Sebastian had received delivery of a lily pad.

“Thank you.” Sebastian said, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. It seemed to be from laughter, but Kurt sensed the emotion was a little tinged in sadness, considering the history of the lily pad. He turned it over in his hand again before he continued speaking. “It was such a long time ago. The sweetest thing anyone ever did for me. I can't believe he remembered.”

His smile couldn't be contained and he chuckled again.

“This must be the weirdest delivery you've ever made.” He looked up at Kurt and shook his head. “I'm sorry. I should let you go. Where do I sign?”

“I- I'm actually Kurt. We spoke over the phone.”

Sebastian's mouth fell open.

“You've been answering Blaine's phone?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“But you're _hot_.” Sebastian seemed annoyed. He quickly straightened his spine a little. “I mean.... not _hot_ hot. But you're hot for a weird elven dude with a serious case of the gay-face.”

“Thanks.” Kurt snapped. “And you're okay looking for a guy with teeth like a horse.”

Sebastian blinked. And then he snorted.

“I'm sorry.” He said, shaking his head. “I'm really sorry. I'm just... surprised. I was expecting something different, and being nice isn't exactly my default. Let me start over. I'm Sebastian. It's nice to meet you.”

He stuck out his hand. Kurt swallowed his pride and shook it. To some extent, he even understood the reaction. He didn't exactly like how attractive Sebastian was either. Not that it made any sense for him to care. It wasn't like he had any reason to be jealous.

“Kurt.” He said again.

“Did Blaine really get this for me?” Sebastian asked, tapping the water lily against his palm.

“Yup.” Kurt replied, warming up again because he could see in Sebastian's eyes how overwhelmed he was feeling. “Dove into wintry waters to get that out for you.”

“He's crazy.” Sebastian shook his head.

“Crazy about you.”

“Is that what he's trying to say? That he still loves me?”

“He really does.” Kurt said. He watched Sebastian absorb the information. “There's also this.”

He held out the bag Blaine had given him at the last minute.

“I thought we could include flowers and make a bouquet, but he insisted on this. I don't know if it means anything to you.”

Sebastian took the bag and opened it, tipping several small chocolates onto his hand. He gasped again.

“I can't believe he had some left!” He said. “Do you know what these are?”

Kurt shook his head.

“He made them for me back in high school. This one is supposed to be Blaine, and this one is supposed to be me.” He held up little chocolates, made into shapes like gingerbread men and then covered in foil with clothes and faces printed on to make each chocolate look like a miniature version of the man that inspired it. “He even made the flavours to match our personalities. Mine's dark chocolate and red cherry and his is honeycomb and walnut.”

“Blaine knows how to make chocolate?” Kurt asked, feeling doubtful.

“Well obviously not personally, but the company.” Sebastian kept studying them, misty-eyed. “They were a prototype, so that Blaine could make them without ever sending them through for public consumption. I thought we'd eaten them all.”

“The company.” Kurt repeated, wondering if that could possibly mean what he thought it might.

“Yeah, he designed them and then got the people at Devon Andersons to make them.” Sebastian took one of the ones that looked like Blaine out of its wrapper and took a bite. Kurt was standing frozen in surprise. Of _course._ Of course Blaine Devon Anderson with the big family company was a part of _Devon Anderson Chocolates_.

How had he not connected that before?

Sebastian wiped away another tear.

“I'm sorry. I'm not usually emotional. It's just- I can't believe he's really doing this.”

Kurt shook himself out of his shock and smiled.

“He wanted you to remember the good times.”

“Tell him I remember.” Sebastian said.

“He's still in there, you know.” Kurt felt compelled to talk, to keep helping however he could. “He may not be exactly the same as the old Blaine you first fell in love with, but people always change. He's still sweet and romantic and funny. He makes me laugh all the time.”

“Does he?” Sebastian asked, studying Kurt's face as if he could read something fascinating there.

Kurt felt himself blush. He had lost his train of thought under the sudden regard.

“You really are looking after him then?” Sebastian said after another few seconds of silence.

“I am.” Kurt shifted awkwardly despite wanting to keep his cool exterior. His pink cheeks were sort of ruining that anyway. “I better let you get back to work though.”

“I know Blaine can sometimes get lost in his own thoughts. I hope he appreciates you.”

“I'm just doing my job.”

“What job?” Sebastian said slowly.

“A friend.” Kurt said. He exhaled in a rush and nodded awkwardly, his cheeks becoming an even deeper shade of red.

“A friend?”

“A friend.” He repeated more firmly.

“Okay.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “I believe you.”

“I really better go.” Kurt said quickly, feeling the need to escape. I'll see you later.”

“Goodbye.”

Sebastian watched him all the way out of the door.

Kurt turned the corner and leant against the side of the building, pressing a hand to his beating heart. He didn't know why Sebastian made him feel so flustered, staring at him in a way that made it seem like he knew more about Kurt's feelings than Kurt himself.

What gave Sebastian the right to act so condescending? As if he knew anything about the situation. He was so skeptical about Kurt's words, questioning things he said. He almost seemed as though he thought Kurt might have feelings for Blaine.

Probably because he was under the impression that the two of them had known each longer than the few days they'd known each other in reality. And even though they probably knew each other on a more intimate level than any other people who'd known each other such a short time, Kurt was sure it hadn't been long enough for him to develop _feelings._ Not proper ones. He just happened to have an appreciation for Blaine's beauty and a fondness as his friend.

Kurt's aim here was to get Blaine and Sebastian together, against his better judgement in fact. Nothing else. Nothing that should make him feel as guilty as he currently did.

“Hi.” Blaine's breathless voice startled Kurt.

“Jesus, Blaine.” He pressed a hand to his heart.

“Sorry.” He looked sorry only momentarily, too excited to be serious. “Was he really crying?”

“He was.” Kurt told him, unable to keep up his sad mood when Blaine was smiling like that. “He had to wipe away tears.”

“Yes!” He hopped up and down on the spot like a puppy. “Sebastian never cries. Not unless it's really important. That's a big deal.”

“It sure seemed like it.”

“What did he say?” Blaine asked.

Kurt shoved aside his worries, and his attempts to analyze Sebastian's comments. He told Blaine everything in as much detail as he could remember, leaving out any description of the way Sebastian had looked at him when he talked about his friendship with Blaine.

“He also seemed shocked about the lily pad. Said you must have been crazy in love to jump into that pond in winter.”

“But I didn't.” Blaine fixed Kurt with those damn mournful eyes of his. “You did that.”

“That's not the point.” Kurt said. When Blaine's brow creased, he knew he had to distract him. “Come on. Let's keep moving. It's cold.”

“What did he think of the chocolates?”

“He _loved_ them.” Kurt enthused, and then shot Blaine a teasing glare. “And, hey, you made him _chocolates._ That means you're Blaine _Devon Anderson_ , as in 'sharing the taste of sun-shiiine'.”

Blaine rolled his eyes.

“Guilty.”

“You denied it before.”

“As I recall, I just said 'I guess so'.” Blaine corrected, twitching a finger at him. “And anyway, that hardly matters. What did Seb _say?_ Did he tell you about the chocolates?”

“He told me all about what they meant, and what flavours they were.” Kurt said. “The Blaine ones sounded very Blaine.”

“Thank you.” Blaine took a mock bow and then bounced on his heels again. “Did he think it was romantic?”

He was like a kid with a crush, begging for every detail.

“He couldn't believe you'd kept them all this time.”

“Of course he'd be surprised.” Blaine laughed and rolled his eyes.

“You know, when all of this ends, you totally owe me my own Kurt Hummel chocolate.” Kurt said, elbowing Blaine in the side.

“You'd be so hard.” Blaine said. Kurt managed not to snort at the way the phrase sounded. He couldn't help noticing the double meaning. He'd grown up around such 'comic geniuses' as Finn and Artie, for goodness sake.

“You have plenty of time to think of something.” Kurt said, still with the teasing edge to his voice.

They reached a small bridge, and he grabbed for Blaine's arm on instinct. Blaine didn't seem to mind. He placed a hand over Kurt's and smiled at him, still looking high off Sebastian's reaction.

“What does the company think of your current absence?”

“They think I've been visiting my father. He's been bad recently so they gave me a little time off. You know, before they force me to take over the whole thing.” He grimaced. “They said to take all the time I need. I wonder if they'd accept me staying away for my whole life.”

“They'd prefer that to the alternative.” Kurt said softly. Blaine whipped around to face him, grabbing his arms, eyes wide.

“They can't know about this.”

“That you tried to commit suicide?”

“I asked you not to use that word.” He let go again, as if he'd been shocked.

“Sorry.” Kurt winced. There was a long silence. “Maybe we _should_ go and visit your Dad. If that's what they think you're doing.”

“Not today.” Blaine shook his head. “Today is a good day.”

“Okay. Well, I hope you don't mind going back to the apartment for a while. I think a quick nap might be good, since we didn't sleep for more than a few hours last night.” Kurt suggested. “And we can take a couple of lazy days. The next thing the book suggests is trying some crafts.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Blaine agreed. “I've already arranged for Pat to pick us up.”

“Who's Pat?”

“My Dad's driver. Since Dad's in the hospital I knew Pat would be bored of having nothing to do, so I texted him while we were waiting for Sebastian. He said he'd be happy to take us anywhere.”

“Wow. Alright.” Kurt said, impressed at the idea of Blaine having a chauffeur.

They leaned against a wall to wait, and within minutes a shiny ,deep navy, perfectly kept Rolls Royce was pulling into the curb. Kurt's mouth fell open and he let out the most obscene moan.

“Oh my _god._ ” He breathed, stepping forward in awe and placing his hands on the side. “ _Oh my god. Blaine.”_

“What?” Blaine seemed very amused by Kurt's reaction.

“Do you _see_ this car? Do you know how much money this car _costs?_ ” His gaze travelled down its length and up again. He stepped back and looked at it from a few feet away again. “This is a god among other cars in Ohio.”

Pat the driver climbed out. He looked between them and then broke into a smile at the way Kurt was reacting.

“Hello, Pat.” Blaine greeted, sounding relaxed still, watching Kurt with a sparkle in his eyes. “We'll probably have to give him a moment.”

“Sorry.” Kurt said, still awed, not taking his eyes off the car in front of him. “It's nice to meet you, Pat.”

“I had no idea you were a car nerd.” Blaine finally said. He sounded very fond.

“Shh.” Kurt scolded him absently, waving a hand his shoulder as he took out his cell phone and took three or four pictures. “Okay I'm done.”

He whirled around with a big grin on his face. Blaine cocked his head and glanced at the phone.

“For my Dad.” Kurt explained.

“I see.” Blaine said.

Pat cleared his throat quietly and their eye contact broke. They turned to see him holding open the door.

“Oh, thank you.” Kurt was blushing now, but looking beyond excited to be riding inside this particular car.

“Thanks Pat.” Blaine said, climbing in after him.

It was deliciously warm inside the Rolls Royce, and Kurt sank back into the seats, running his hands over the plush interior.

“I _will_ make you a chocolate.” Blaine said.

“What?”

“I said I will make you a chocolate. I'll think about it and design one. It'll be hard to create something that can capture _you,_ but I'll give it a go.”

Kurt smiled.

“Even more reason to keep you alive.”

“You mean there's more than one reason?” Blaine joked.

 _Yes._ Kurt thought fiercely to himself. _Yes there are so many more._

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

 

For all of day ten, Kurt and Blaine barely left the house. They made one big trip to a stationary shop with Pat and bought everything they could possibly need to makes crafts. Then they closed themselves into the apartment and started working.

They had a lot of fun. It was sort of freeing to be able to quit the world for a day and focus solely on _creating._ Kurt would keep up conversation whenever he could, and he noticed that when they did fall into silence, it was normally one of concentration rather than Blaine losing himself in the depths of his depression again.

By that evening, the amount of stuff they churned out was kind of over-the-top. The apartment ended up covered in tiny origami figures, overly-decorated scrapbooks, half-formed clay statues, messy paintings on small canvases. The kitchen was a mess of paper, paint, and feathers. Kurt and Blaine joked that the glue would never come off their fingers, and the glitter was probably permanently embedded in their scalps.

At the end of the night, Kurt, snickering as Blaine tried to get blue paint cleaned off his elbows, was sad to announce that it was probably time to clean up and go to bed. They had things to do the next day, and they wouldn't have time for more crafts.

Together, they cleaned up all of their supplies and packed them away into one of Kurt's spare boxes. When they were done, Blaine stood in the middle of the living room with a giant smile on his face, looking around at everything they had made.

“You know,” He said. “I'm exhausted. But I'm also really proud. We actually got a lot done.”

“Yeah,” Kurt agreed. He hid a giant yawn with the back of his hand. “See what we can achieve when we put our minds to it?”

When Blaine walked past him on his way to bed, he wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and pulled him in for a hug.

“Thanks Kurt.” He whispered into his neck.

“You’re welcome, Blaine.”

Kurt tried not to think about how Blaine still smelled like raspberry hair gel even after he'd had a shower. He tried to not think about how right it felt to be hugging him. He had to remind himself, once again, that he couldn't have feelings for Blaine. He _didn't_ have feelings for Blaine.

He was only feeling so stupidly sentimental because they grew closer every day, became better friends, and yet he knew Blaine was still having such a rough time.

Kurt watched him pad off to bed and sighed, glancing across at the item that, of all the things they'd made that day, was probably his favourite. It was a picture of him, drawn by Blaine, with a small sweet smile, a swoop of brown hair, eyes coloured in every shade of blue and green crayon they had, and two rosy cheeks.

He hated that the sight of it made his chest feel fluttery and his smile feel shaky. The more time he spent with Blaine, the more his stomach churned at the thought of their time running out. This man was becoming a part of his life he could never let go of again. And yet, if he couldn't help him, then Blaine would kill himself. They had only nine more days. _Nine days._ And while deadlines usually didn't worry Kurt _too_ much, this was the worst one of his life.

...

The day after their craft session they sat in the row behind Quinn at her mother's funeral. Initially, Blaine hadn't wanted to come. He felt like he was intruding. But Kurt couldn't leave him alone after what happened last time.

James was there as well, and it amused Kurt to no end to see the panicked look in his eyes. He hadn't asked Quinn to come to Berlin a second time. It was clear now that the only reason he'd asked the _first_ time was because he _knew_ that Quinn would never say yes. Now that she wasn't tied to Lima anymore, he was terrified she might want to come with him.

Except Quinn hadn't so much as glanced in his direction. It made Kurt proud.

She was sitting there in the row in front of them, her head bowed, her blond hair falling in wisps out of the elegant knot at the back of her neck. Her tired eyes were red rimmed and her lips were moving so quickly it was clear that she was quietly praying. Despite the pain on her face, she also looked peaceful.

The service started. There was a short opening delivered by the pastor, and then Quinn got up to speak. Her voice was steady. At Kurt's side, Blaine was pressing his lips together and nodding, clearly feeling connected to her even without really knowing her. On his other side, Rachel gripped his hand and turned her face into Finn's shoulder, weeping. Kurt made eye contact with his brother and they exchanged a sad smile. Both of them understood what it felt like to lose a parent.

Then it was Kurt's turn to go up to the front. He stood gracefully and made his way to the microphone setup for him, pausing to hug Quinn on the way. When they had been waiting in the hospital the other day, she had asked that he sing for her mother. There was no way he ever could have refused that request.

He closed his eyes, took a shaky breath as the music started playing, and then began his song.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night...._

…

“Did you choose the song?” Blaine asked later, while the funeral attendees were all milling around and eating afternoon tea. He was regarding Kurt with a puzzled look, as if trying to work something out.

“Yes, I chose it. I know it may seem silly to feel so emotional about it, since I never really knew Mrs. Fabray very well. But she was Quinn's mom. And – and I know how she feels. I -” Kurt broke off, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off tears.

“It's not silly. Of course it's not.” Blaine reached for his hand and squeezed it.

They stood like that, holding hands, for the rest of the funeral. Even after it finished, and people started to leave, hugging Quinn on the way out, they never let go.

“Kurt,” Blaine said, as they stood outside the church and blinked in the sunlight. “I think we should visit my Dad.”

…

Blaine's father was, oddly enough, staying in the same hospital as Dave Karofsky. Blaine had mentioned it the last time they were there, but declined the offer to visit him. Now, they stood before the door to his private room, and Blaine took a deep breath to ready himself before entering.

It was instantly clear that Mr. Anderson was totally focused on getting better. Unlike some hospital patients, he wasn't remaining idle during his stay. With a huge business to run, he didn'twant to stop for a second. The entire room had been transformed into some sort of centre for Devon Anderson's Chocolates. It was full of files and even had a whiteboard perched in a corner covered in what were apparently final ideas for advertising campaigns.

Kurt and Blaine were following the nurse, Mercedes Jones, inside. She recognized Kurt from Dave's ward and seemed sad that he knew someone else who was stuck in the hospital. When they asked why she was suddenly working in a different part of the hospital, she rolled her eyes and simply said “Mr. Anderson chooses his nurses and he got attached to me after I took over one shift for a friend. I have no idea how much he's paying the hospital, but it must be a lot.”

“I heard they were giving out Nestle bars on the plane.” Mr Anderson was saying, sharp and annoyed. “To everyone in economy.”

“Yes.” The woman sitting at the end of bed had her hair pulled up in a knot and a perky dress and blazer that seemed out of place in the bland hospital room. “They have a deal with the airline. It lasts at least two years, I think.”

“Why don't they have Devon Andersons on the plane? Nestle should _not_ get the deal ahead of us. Who's responsible for this fuck up? Don't tell me it's you, Tina.”

“I've spoken to the airline already.” The woman – Tina – said confidently, ignoring his apparent annoyance. “They believe that Nestle is more of a family brand. Devon Andersons are known for being a little more luxury. 'Special Occasion' chocolate, they said. Not what they want to serve on their flights apparently. However, ours _are_ available-”

“Not ours.” Mr Anderson snapped. “Mine.”

“- to purchase from in-flight shopping. I can tell you the exact revenue from this.” Tina opened the file on her lap and flicked through.

“Get out!” He suddenly snapped. Everyone in the room jumped. Except for Tina. “We're having a meeting, Blaine. You should have called me first.”

Kurt had no idea how he'd even noticed them entering, seeing as he was facing the other way and hadn't even turned at the sound of the door opening.

“Come on, Kurt.” Blaine said, turning on his heel, already looking upset.

“No.” Kurt grabbed his arm and held him in place. “We're doing this _today_.”

Mercedes stepped forward and set down the tray of food she was carrying in front of Mr. Anderson.

“What is this?” He asked.

“It's shepherd’s pie.” She said, as cheerful and no-nonsense as ever. And then her tone changed to a more sarcastic one. “Accompanied by a side salad of fresh greens and tomato and bread straight out of the oven. For dessert, the most decadent serve of jelly and ice cream we could muster, followed by your daily laxatives.”

“You know, yesterday's dinner looked good and tasted like shit, so let's hope today's dinner only looks like shit, and actually tastes good.” Mr. Anderson grumbled.

“Mm, and then hopefully your pills will help you actually take a shit.” Mercedes sassed, rolling her eyes as she turned away.

Kurt saw Mr. Anderson smile, the barest flicker, like he admired Mercedes' attitude, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

“Actually, you know what, come back here.” He demanded.

Mercedes turned back, looking annoyed.

“Not you. Those two.” Mr. Anderson jabbed a finger in Kurt and Blaine's direction.

They exchanged a quick glance and then slowly approached the bed. As Mercedes slipped past them, she offered Kurt a sympathetic smile.

“What do you have to do today?” Mr. Anderson asked.

Blaine looked confused.

“I heard this... guy... tell you that you had to do something today.” He explained. “What do you have to do?”

A doctor poked her head around the door.

“We have two medical students who will be coming up with he in a moment to check on you, Mr. Anderson, so I n-” She broke off at the sight of Kurt, Blaine, and Tina. “We only allowed two guests per visit I'm afraid.”

“Shut up.” Mr Anderson hissed. “I've been waiting all day to talk to a doctor and three show up at once? Well now it's your turn to wait. I'm currently speaking with my son, and I won't let you kick him out. Go away.”

“We'll give you ten minutes.” The doctor said, looking peeved as she shut the door behind herself.

“Who are you, then?” Mr. Anderson asked Kurt the second they were alone.

“My name is Kurt Hummel.” He held out a hand.

“You're prettier than Blaine's other boyfriend.” Mr Anderson looked at his son. “Does Sebastian know about this one? I never took you for a two-timer. You were always so whipped.”

“Dad,” Blaine said carefully.

“What kind of name is Hummel?” Mr Anderson ignored him and turned back to Kurt.

“Uh, it's just my last name.”

“Hm.” Mr Anderson didn't look very impressed. He looked Kurt up and down, and then focused on his son again. “I like Sebastian, Blaine. I don't like many people, but I like Sebastian. And Mercedes the nurse. And my assistant Tina.”

Tina raised her eyebrows from the other side of his bed, looking up for her file long enough to exhibit some surprise at the admission.

“With Sebastian by your side you could make a great leader for Devon Andersons. He just needs to drop the act of his where he pretends he isn't serious about things and put his mind to helping you. He should also stop walking with that fucking slouch. It's dead annoying and makes him look like an arrogant little shit.”

Kurt couldn't help it, he burst out in a sharp bark of laughter. Mr Anderson looked surprised. He watched Kurt as he continued talking.

“When he comes to his senses and sees that he could have a very good future with you, and with our family business, he'll be okay. He can help you when you're in charge. Because god knows you couldn't organise a bake sale even if it was to save your own life.”

“Then why do you want him to take over the company?” Kurt asked.

This time, everyone turned to look at him.

Mr. Anderson especially seemed shocked, though he couldn't, of course, allow it to show. His control and authority wasn't allowed to slip even for a moment.

“Was that meant to be a secret? That he wanted you to take over?” Kurt whispered to Blaine.

He shook his head, looking awed for some reason.

“What's wrong then?” Kurt searched for an answer. Tina locked eyes with him for the first time and some sort of understanding seemed to pass between them.

“I'm going to wait outside, Mr. Anderson.” She said firmly, standing.

“No. You're staying. I need you.”

Tina sat back down.

“Tell me how you know my son.” Mr Anderson's voice was quiet.

“We're friends.” Blaine said quickly.

“Ah, so you _can_ speak for yourself!” Mr Anderson said. “Tell me, Blaine. The office hasn't seen you since Sunday. Apparently you were in here visiting me, but I'm sure I would have noticed you sulking around my hospital room. If you're going to be whoring around I'd prefer you did it on-”

“He wasn't whoring.” Kurt interrupted, noticing the way that Blaine's nostrils flared and his eyes filled with tears.

“- your own time.” Mr Anderson finished. “I don't like to be interrupted, thank you, Mr. Hummel.”

“Look, there's an issue we wanted to discuss with you in private.” Kurt said.

“Well, I trust Tina with my own life. She's been with me since I first took over the company. She's known Blaine since he was in diapers and she was just an intern, which was a phase which lasted longer than anyone wanted. The diaper phase, not Tina being an intern. On top of all that, she's more competent than anyone I've ever met. She stays in the room while we talk.” Mr. Anderson folded his arms stubbornly. “Cut the crap and explain why you're here.”

Kurt was also in the mood to cut the crap. He straightened his spine and started talking.

“I'm aware that you're probably going to die very soon, and you want Blaine to take over the company so that control doesn't revert to your nephew. We're here to talk about that.”

Blaine sighed and closed his eyes. His hands were shaking.

“Shh,” Mr. Anderson silenced his son even though he'd barely made a sound. “Tina you can leave.”

He didn't watch her as she followed his instructions, preferring to stare at Kurt instead.

“Mr. Hummel, you have your facts wrong. I don't _want_ Blaine to take over the company. Believe it or not, I do actually like it when my son is happy. But the things is, he _has_ to take over the company. Of course, Cooper is next in line, but he can't take the job anymore. Blaine is the only option.”

“Yes.” Kurt agreed. “But Blaine doesn't want the job. Surely there's another way to do things.”

There was a very long, uncomfortable silence. Mr Anderson seemed to be expecting him to say something more, to offer up a solution. But nothing ever came. That was all Kurt had to say.

“Do you think I don't know that? I know he doesn't want it. But there is _no other way._ ” Mr Anderson glanced between them, still wearing the stern frown, but seeming far wearier than before. “Was this conversation meant to solve something?”

Kurt couldn't think what to do. He hadn't expected things to take this turn. He had hoped that once Mr Anderson really understood that Blaine wanted to seek an alternative, he would put his efforts into thinking about it. He hadn't expected to be told outright that _nothing_ would work.

“Look, Blaine's lack of interest in anything to do with me has been plainly obvious since he was a child. His mother and I always paid for whatever lessons and activities the children wanted to be a part of, and he chose music. Always dicking around with music. Of course, it might have been okay if he had actually done something with it, like his brother did. But he's a _teacher_ now. As if that's some prize for a kid who should be worth millions of dollars. I don't care if that makes him happy, because this job is what will be _good for him_. It's what he _needs._ The company must always be in the hands of an Anderson. But it can't be Nigel Anderson-Williams. Tell me how you're going to solve that problem. You got a magic wand as well as a face like a fairy? Because if not I'm getting the feeling that you're pretty fucking useless to us.”

Kurt felt like he was about to snap. He couldn't stand this; listening to this father talking about his son as if his feelings didn't matter,as if being miserable for his whole life could somehow be what was best for him; as if _this_ was the logical way to view the world. He ground his teeth.

“Dad, _stop_.” Blaine said. He sounded angry for the first time. “Don't talk to him like that. He's only trying to help.”

“Well, why do you need him to help? Can't you grow some balls and tell me things yourself?” Mr. Anderson shook his head and then fixed Kurt under his stare again. “Did he tell you he doesn't get the inheritance, not a penny, until he's done at least ten years with the company? It was a scheme hooked in by my father, so it's not like I really had a say in the matter, but if Blaine wants the money, he has to do it.”

Kurt could tell that Blaine was slowly disengaging from the conversation. He stared at the wall, jaw tight, holding back from an explosion.

“He didn't tell me.” Kurt said, thoroughly pissed off at Mr. Anderson by now. “But I don't think money is an issue for Blaine. He has another career. He has a life of his own. If your company is more important to you than your own son's welfare – which is pretty _fucked_ up – then at least consider what's best for the company. Do you really think it'll flourish with Blaine taking care of it? When he doesn't even care about it in the first place?”

Mr. Anderson was looking at Kurt spitefully. He turned to Blaine.

“Sebastian will help you.” It was surprising that his tone came out calm rather than spiteful. “He's got a mind for business, I keep telling you. Keep him around and you'll do just fine. You'll also have Tina. She's my right hand woman. She knows everything she needs to know.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, and Mr. Anderson suddenly looked exhausted. He rested his head back against his pillows.

“Maybe Sebastian's too busy sleeping with Hunter to help him out now.”

The fourth voice came from behind them, and they all spun around to see who had just come in. A handsome young man with bright blue eyes and a shock of dark hair was watching them smugly from the doorway.

“Nigel.” Blaine greeted curtly.

“Hello, Blaine.” He grinned wickedly. “Hello, Uncle Dick.”

Kurt almost felt sorry for Mr. Anderson then. Not only was he trapped in his position of vulnerability when the man who was pretty much his enemy walked into the room, but his name was also Dick.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Blaine demanded, letting his temper out for the first time.

“I came to visit my Uncle. Although this turns out to be good timing. I wanted to talk to you about the things you said to me last week.” Nigel said without hesitation.

“You two talked last week?” Mr. Anderson looked shattered.

“We only-”

“Blaine was very keen to turn the company over to me. He called the meeting and practically _begged_ me. You should have seen it. And I really think Anderson-Williams has more of a ring to it than Devon Anderson. Don't you?” He smirked.

“That's a lie!” Blaine growled. He leapt up from his seat and Kurt felt instantly on edge.

“Blaine, tell your father how much better it would be if I were running the company instead of you. Tell him how you were just _dying_ to abandon it to go and make gay-bies with the nearest twink and live the house-husband life of your dr-”

Blaine's fist collided with the side of Nigel's face before he could finish speaking.

Before Kurt could so much as move to stop them, Nigel had smashed his head into Blaine stomach, arms around his waist, and tackled him to the ground. Blaine lashed out, kicking furiously, and twisted enough to punch him again. Nigel tried to pin both his hands to the ground.

Kurt flew out of his seat.

“Blaine,” He said, hesitating right before driving in.

“You're a filthy liar!” Blaine shouted, yanking on a chunk of Nigel's hair and making him yelp like a small animal. Nigel raised a fist to make contact again.

Kurt grabbed the back of Nigel's jacket and yanked with all his strength. He easily pulled him off Blaine. Before they could collide again, Kurt dropped to the floor between them, using his body to get in the middle, leaving Blaine shielded behind him with Nigel held at arm’s length in front of him. Nigel shoved against Kurt's outstretched hands, trying to get to Blaine.

But Blaine was still now, crouching behind Kurt, breathing heavily, holding a hand up to his split lip.

Nigel stopped struggling when he realized Kurt was too strong for him. He leapt to his feet and straightened his jacket, glaring at his cousin through a black eye that was already forming on his face. Without another word, he left the room.

Kurt looked over at Mr. Anderson, who seemed, for the first time, like he might be emotionally affected by something. He was staring at Blaine's split lip with tears in his eyes. His hands were clenched in the sheets like he wanted to do something; to intervene. But he couldn't move.

“Mr Anderson? He would never have tried to pass on the company like that.” Kurt said, hoping to reassure him. “He's been really loyal this whole time. He wouldn't pass it to Nigel. He wants another alternative.”

“I know _that.”_ Mr. Anderson said.

He was still watching Blaine like he might cry. And then Kurt realized. It wasn't the idea of Nigel having the company that was upsetting him. It was the sight of his son sitting there with blood trickling down his face. It seemed, beneath it all, that Mr. Anderson did care about him son.

Which meant he must genuinely believe that they only option Blaine had was taking over the company.

…

“I think your modelling days are over.” Kurt joked weakly as he sat beside Blaine at the table in his apartment.

He smiled, and his split lip stretched too far, breaking open again.

“Ah, don't smile.” Kurt said, dabbing at it.

“No problem.” It was probably meant to be a joke, but his voice changed halfway through. He stood up suddenly, tension returning to his body. “I'm going to go and take a shower anyway.”

Kurt opened his mouth to say sorry, but Blaine was already stalking out of the room.

He sighed and set down the towel he'd been using on Blaine's lip. He had no idea what to do. Everything he seemed to be trying kept going totally wrong. The only thing that had worked out the way he planned was their day of crafts, and even that good mood had vanished pretty rapidly after one encounter with Blaine's father.

_Sorry._

_Sorry. Sorry. Sorry._

He thought the word over and over and didn't say it out loud. It wouldn't help anyway. Kurt's words clearly weren't enough. His actions were also falling short. He had a whole ton of plans drawn up of things they could do, but he was rapidly losing faith in himself.

He had no idea how to help.

…

It was four a.m. again when Kurt kicked back his covers and officially gave up on trying to sleep. He paced his room for a second and then swung open his bedroom door.

“Are you awake?” He called out into the dark apartment, knowing that if Blaine was awake he'd hear it from the guest room next door.

“No.” Blaine replied.

“I left something for you on your bedside table. Did you see it already?”

“Not yet.” There was a shuffling in the darkness and Kurt saw the light flick on through the door that was still ajar. He leant against his own doorframe.

“What is this?”

“Just read it.”

He had left Blaine a whole page of inspirational quotes; as many as he could think of off the top of his head.

“'Everyone deserves the chance to fly' - Wicked.” Blaine read aloud. He was silent for a moment, and then suddenly he snorted. “Is this really what I think it is?”

“It really is. Keep reading! The next one is 'Don't let negative and toxic people rent space in your head. Raise the rent and kick them out!' - Rent.” Kurt called out loudly, quoting from memory.

Blaine laughed softly to himself.

“'Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light' - Albus Dumbledore.” Blaine read. “'You can have anything you want in life if you dress for it' - Edith Head. Oh, I was sure that one was going to be from Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt snorted.

“'Don't piss in the wind' - Santa Claus.” Blaine called.

“That's not on the list.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

“'Never eat yellow snow' - Barack Obama. 'Don't smoke' - Casper the friendly ghost. 'Never make eye contact while eating an ice cream' - Jesus himself.” Blaine rolled them off as quickly as he could think of them.

“Okay I get it.” Kurt laughed. “They're kind of cheesy. But do you feel better?”

“Yeah, a little.” Blaine said eventually. His voice was soft and sleepy and content.

“Goodnight then, Blaine.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.”

Kurt returned to his bed and climbed inside. He slept a little bit that night, but mostly he couldn't stop thinking about how he only had eight days left.

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

It had taken Kurt a few days to actually get around to reporting his smashed windshield, but now he was sitting in Detective Lopez's office, feeling sweaty and nervous under her piercing stare. Blaine was waiting in the room next door, probably flicking through a magazine.

“Are you in the habit of picking up suicide victims?” She asked, having written down all of the details about the broken car. She didn't seem in a hurry to get rid of him yet. He shifted nervously.

“I'm just helping him for a while.” Kurt said a little defensively.

“Do you often let things like this affect your personal life?” She asked gently.

“Do you even _have_ a personal life?” Kurt snapped.

Too late, he realized that Lopez had been close to softening and maybe even on the verge of acting like a sympathetic human being for once. Now, her force field snapped back in place.

“So tell me again, you think some random passer-by just _decided_ to attack your car with a baseball bat.” Her tone was full of very carefully constructed boredom.

“Yes.” Kurt said, exasperated.

“How do you know it was a baseball bat? For all you know, it could have been a flying dildo. There's no evidence of a baseball bat.” Lopez raised an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. Someone smashed my window with a mystery object. Is that satisfactory?” Kurt said.

“Can anyone else back up your story?”

“Blaine can.”

“Ah, the suicide man.”

“The attempted suicide victim, yes.”

“Do you have any witnesses that didn't try to kill themselves five minutes ago?”

“It was five days ago. And no.” Kurt was feeling impatient.

Lopez sighed. She tapped her nails, which were bitten down to stubs, on the table and leaned back in her chair.

“I don't feel like you're taking this seriously.” Kurt said.

“Look, Hummel, I operate from the belief that the most obvious answer is usually more likely to be the truth. And this mysterious stranger seems a rather unlikely candidate.”

“But there's no other explanation for my broken window.” Kurt threw his hands in the air.

Lopez blinked at him.

“I hear you left your boyfriend.”

It was Kurt's turn to fall silent. He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

“The night of Dave's attempted suicide.” She prompted him again.

“The particular _time_ I left him has nothing to do with it.” Kurt insisted.

Santana leaned forward, chin in her hands, and again, she raised one eyebrow in that well-practised way of hers.

“Did it have anything to do with the shooting?”

“No.... yes... maybe.” Kurt stammered. “Not really.”

“I'm getting mixed messages here.” The Detective's eyes were boring into his skull.

“It didn't really.” Kurt sighed, yanking his fingers through his hair somewhat erratically. “It had been a long time coming. I had just been trying to make it work for so long and then I realized that - that life's too short. You know?”

“Okay.” Santana accepted it. “But I have to ask, do you think your ex-boyfriend might have anything to do with your car?”

“What?” Kurt scoffed. “No way. He was pretty much a giant British puppy. He wouldn't actually do anything like that.”

“How has he been taking the break up then?” Lopez asked.

“This is none of your business!” Kurt exclaimed.

“It may have something to do with your window.” The Detective sat back in her seat. 'Which makes it very much my business.”

“But he's _Adam_. He just _wouldn't._ ”

“He may have been your sugar gay when you were together but he's probably feeling disgruntled now, am I right? You never know how much people will change. Like the flick of a switch.” Santana clicked her fingers. “My Abuela used to be one of the most important people in my life, but the second I told her.... never mind. We're not here to talk about me.”

She looked embarrassed all of a sudden, and Kurt noticed that her eyes were wet.

“Would you like to press charges?” She asked.

“No.” Kurt sighed. “Not if it's Adam. Just forget about this. I'll go.”

He started to stand.

“All the same, I could pay him a visit.”

“Please don't!” Kurt burst out. “I don't want to do that to him. We don't even know if it _was_ him.”

“It probably was.”

“Please don't contact him.”

Lopez sighed.

“Let me guess how this break up of yours played out. Started with phone calls, right? Probably sad for a while. Then abusive. And now he trashes your car.”

“ _Maybe_. Maybe he trashed my car.”

“I don't care about 'maybe'. That's not the point. I'm just trying to warn you to be careful.” Lopez said. “I keep seeing you open your heart to people, even strangers you barely know, and I don't think it's a healthy way to live your life. You're going to get hurt.”

“I'll be fine.” Kurt said, surprised by her sudden show of concern.

“Fine. Let me know if you change your mind.” Lopez nodded in her version of a goodbye.

“Thank you. Sorry for wasting your time.” Kurt said, embarrassed. He picked up his bag and fled the room.

“Used to it by now, Kurt!” The Detective called after him. She sounded long-suffering, but actually kind of fond.

…

“Shit.” Kurt pressed _end call_ on his phone, finishing the conversation with his Dad about fixing his car. Burt wasn't happy. He'd had almost as many questions as Detective Lopez. He dumped his phone down on the kitchen bench and kept rooting in the cupboards for more sandwich ingredients. He was making them an early lunch before they went out for the afternoon.

“Was it really that bad?”

“It's going to cost a lot, since insurance for some _fucked up reason_ is refusing to cover it. And Dad wants to pay it but I can't let him do that. He needs to stop trying to take care of me and – where's the _bloody peanut butter_?” He slammed the cupboard shut and leaned back against it.

Across the kitchen, Blaine raised his eyebrows from where he was perched on another counter.

“Sorry.” Kurt said, pouting.

“I'll pay for it.” Blaine said suddenly.

“What? No. The point of this is that I don't take hand-outs.”

“Don't think of it as charity. Think of it as payback. I owe you.”

“No you don't.” Kurt said, shaking his head vigorously. “The best pay back you could give me would be staying alive.”

“But you cancelled work for two weeks. I'm using up your vacation time.” Blaine protested.

“I was in need of a holiday.”

“You're also being too nice.” He countered, hopping down from the counter and walking around the dining table to take Kurt's hands. “Please just let me be nice to you. You can't just fix everyone else. You have to let people fix you when you need it.”

Kurt blinked back the moisture in his eyes, hypnotised by Blaine's.

“Okay,” he said finally, barely above a whisper.

Blaine beamed and dropped his hands. He opened the cupboard behind Kurt's head before Kurt could convince his tummy to stop fluttering, and pulled out a jar of peanut butter.

“Now, is this what you were looking for?”

Kurt gave him a look of mock-horror.

“I swear this wasn't there before.”

“Sure.” Blaine teased. “You just didn't look hard enough.”

He resumed his place on the counter as Kurt began making them sandwiches for lunch, his legs swinging back and forth.

“I have a good distraction for you.” Blaine said. “We need to think of another gift to give to Sebastian.”

“Sure.” Kurt said, uncomfortable and confused with the way his heart sunk at the mere mention of that name. “What's it for? Anything in particular?”

“Well, it's his birthday and -”

“ _What_?” Kurt screeched. “ _When_ is it his birthday?”

“Today.” Blaine said, looking a little scared. “Why are you angry?”

“Because you should have told me earlier.”

“It's only eleven thirty. We have plenty of time.”

“No, I mean I should have known _days_ ago. We could have spent ages thinking of something.” Kurt plunked his knife down on top of the sandwich he'd just spread and sighed. “The perfect gift.”

“I've been trying to think of one myself.” Blaine explained. “But everything seems too cliché.”

“What did you get him last year?” Kurt asked.

“We went to Paris.” Blaine said. “Visited all the places he used to go when he was a teenager and he actually lived there.”

Kurt felt jealousy rip through his veins. He had always _always_ wanted to go to Paris. How unfairly amazing did Sebastian's life get to be?

“My heart wasn't in it though.” Blaine added after a pause.

“How come?”

“Cooper had just left for the start of his film in Europe.”

Kurt nodded, understanding. He already had a pretty good grip on how abandonment made Blaine feel. He could see how his brother's recent absence would ruin his romantic holiday.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah. I'm just thinking.” Kurt replied. He waved a hand and led Blaine through to the living room, where he approached his planning corner again. Sitting in the centre of everything was their guide book. He opened to the next chapter, hoping for more inspiration.

_Learn to cook. Take joy in creating the same way you did in the Arts and Crafts chapter._

He bit his lip, staring down at it, not exactly happy with its solutions so far. But then the cogs in his mind started turning and he had an idea.

“Blaine, what does Sebastian usually do on his birthday?” Kurt asked.

“Well, since ours are in the same week, we normally celebrate together. Go out for dinner or to a club or something.” He frowned a little. “But this week Sebastian's friends are taking him out to this restaurant overlooking the river for a birthday dinner.”

“How do you know?” Kurt asked, a little amused until he saw the guilty look on Blaine's face.

“I just do.” Blaine tried to brush it off.

“Blaine, I thought we agreed you weren't ready to talk to him.”

“I didn't talk to him.” He protested. “He just... doesn't change the password to his Facebook.”

“So you logged into his account and stalked his messages? That's _so_ much better.” Kurt put on his most sarcastic tone. “I guess you may as well tell me what you found out.”

“Well,” Blaine's eyes lit up. “I checked them when you were on the phone with your Dad, and he's just been talking to Hunter. He's feeling guilty and stifled and he asked Hunter if they could take a break. He wanted space to think.”

“To think about you.” Kurt managed a smile.

Blaine's responding grin was so big that Kurt had to let go of his resentment. He held up both hands for a hi-five.

“Well done, Blaine!”

Blaine pulled him in for a hug. Why was he a hugger? That just made all of Kurt's emotions feel more jumbled than ever.

“Thank you.” He whispered in Kurt's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“No problem.” Kurt pulled back. “Now let's get down to business.”

“What are we doing?”

“You may have taken him to Paris last year, but his year we're making him a birthday cake!”

…

Kurt spent a while dithering over what sort of cake he wanted to make, and as he searched, he came across a cooking class running that very afternoon that was working on a chocolate mousse cake. He called the number at the bottom of the screen, and was quickly promised a place in the class. Though he was an expert baker most of the time, Kurt figured it might be nice to keep getting Blaine involved with things outside the apartment as well.

When they arrived at the venue in the late afternoon, it was pretty clear that most of the other people there were couples or groups of girls having a fun night out together. There was one particular group of three young ladies that burst into fits of giggling as soon as they caught sight of Blaine. Kurt raised a scornful eyebrow at them as he followed his friend to an empty bench near the back.

“Hello!” A cheerful voice said from the bench in front of them. They looked up to find a woman who was probably around the same age as Detective Lopez, thirty-five or so, though she dressed like she was even younger.

“Hi,” Kurt greeted her. “I'm Kurt Hummel, and this is Blaine.”

Blaine waved in a good-natured way from beside him.

“I'm Brittany Pierce!” The woman said, sticking out her hand.

The name sounded familiar, and as Kurt shook hands with the smiling blonde, he couldn't help asking if she knew Quinn Fabray.

“Yes!” Brittany beamed even wider. “I work in her bookstore.”

“ _Oh,_ ” Kurt said. “I'm one of her best friends.”

“That's so cool.” Brittany enthused. “I thought I recognized you from somewhere. She has a photo of you behind the desk.”

“Oh god, not that.” He felt embarrassed. “It was taken in High School.”

“I think it's cute. Quinn's really nice and she clearly thinks highly of you.” Her bright smile faded a little. “It-it's a pity about her Mom though. Do you know if they had the funeral yet? I've been looking after the store for a few days but haven't seen Quinn for a while.”

“Yes, it was yesterday.” Kurt said. He was touched by the genuine sympathy he could hear in Brittany's voice. She nodded sagely and then looked over at Blaine with curiosity.

“So are you two married or...?”

“No,” Kurt said.

“We're just friends.” Blaine added, looking amused and missing Kurt's blush entirely. “Are you here with anyone?”

“Well my wife was _meant_ to join me but she's all caught up at work and our daughter didn't want to come. Apparently cooking classes with her mother would be super boring.” She rolled her eyes fondly.

“A pity.” Blaine said. “I would have liked to meet them.”

“You could always come along to this group that my wife and I attend on Thursdays. It's called the ' _How to Fall in Love'_ class.”

“How to fall in love?” Kurt asked, sceptical.

“It's really a couples counselling thing. For new relationships or long time ones like ours. My wife only really wanted to go because she feels like she works too much and we don't spend enough time together, but honestly it’s turned out to be so fun. The people you meet are hilarious.” She beamed at them. “You two would totally love it.”

“But we aren't a couple.” Kurt said.

Brittany smiled at them like she still hadn't absorbed the information properly.

The cooking instructor welcomed the class, and they all fell silent. Kurt didn't listen too closely as she started speaking. Instead he went over all the ingredients that had been set out on their table. The more serious couples were taking notes. Blaine was perched on their table watching Kurt.

“You may as well grease the tray while we wait.” Kurt told him, handing him a stick of butter and a cake tin.

“So what did you learn in your class this week?” Blaine asked Brittany conversationally. She was currently mixing sprinkles and chocolate hail, though Kurt couldn't think of a possible reason why.

“Today was about falling in love for the right reasons. About recognising the difference between really caring for and loving a person or just focusing on the idea of them.” She added more sprinkles to her bowl. “Just loving the idea of them is bad and leads to your expectations falling short and a marriage falling apart.”

“Wow, how much does this course cost?” Kurt asked sarcastically.

“It's very cheap.” Brittany said cheerfully, apparently completely missing his tone. “The lady that runs it recommends doing it twice though.”

“I bet she does.” Blaine turned to Kurt. “Do you think that's right?”

“What?” Kurt said, looking up. “The price? I didn't hear what it was.”

“No I meant this.” He said, holding out the cake tin he'd just been smearing with butter. Kurt looked into it.

“Yup, that looks good.” He approved. Blaine grinned before turning back to Brittany.

“So what else do they teach you?”

“Well, she talks about how 'falling' in love isn't really a thing. You don't just magically _fall_ in love, but the feeling grows through a series of experiences. Things that bring you closer as individuals. And if you really love one another and are willing to make an effort, there are usually ways to keep that love alive.”

“What kind of ways? Does she teach you?” Blaine was listening very politely, though it was clear he thought taking a class on love was a little odd.

“The week before last, we all talked about listening.” She said, seeming proud that she could remember. “Apparently it's always better if you try to speak only twenty percent of the time and listen the other eighty. Only... I don't think it really works.”

Her brow furrowed, and Blaine looked up with interest.

“How come?”

“Well my wife and I tried it when we were having dinner later. Our daughter was already in bed so we had a bit of alone time. But with both of us trying to listen all the time, no one ended up wanting to talk. We just had sex instead.” She shrugged, and then her eyes went wide. “I'm sorry. Was that inappropriate?”

“It's fine, Brittany.” Kurt assured her. He couldn't help grinning at her childlike manner. Beside him, Blaine started laughing.

“Are we paying attention chefs?” The instructor called out to the group of them, who had all stopped working as they talked.

They all tried to look busy until the more nosey members of the class had finished staring at them.

“The previous lesson was about secrets.” Brittany said, and Kurt couldn't imagine her ever keeping anything a secret. “And how important it is to create a safe space where they can be shared.”

“Sounds like it's a lot of fun.” Blaine said, somehow managing to sound sincere. “I'd better help Kurt though. I can't let him do all the work. Good luck with your class.”

“Thank you.” She said, opening a bottle of cream.

Blaine returned to Kurt's side. He looked over his shoulder at where they were up to in the recipe.

“I doubt she has any secrets anyway. She seems like an open book.” Kurt shared with Blaine, who laughed.

“I didn't think you were listening anymore.” Blaine said.

“Twenty percent listening. Eighty percent trying to make cake.”

“I'll help.” He reached for an egg.

“Make sure you don't throw this one at the wall.” Kurt murmured. Beside him, Blaine chuckled again.

“You're really witty.” He said appreciatively, and then watched him thoughtfully for a moment.

“Have I got flour on my face?” Kurt groaned.

“No.”

For a few seconds they looked at each other.

“You have to separate the eggs first.” Kurt pushed a spare bowl toward him.

“Okie dokie.” Blaine said, mock saluting before picking up his egg again and dragging the bowl closer.

“You're a dork.” Kurt told him.

“It's all this joyful living you're making me do.”

A moment later, Blaine was hopping up and down and complaining about the gloop covering his fingers. He'd managed to crush most of the egg to pieces rather than cracking it properly, but he did better on the next two. Still, Kurt had to help him fish eggshell out of the whites before he could pour the sugar in. Blaine passed him the vanilla and he added that as well.

While Kurt fluffed the egg whites, Blaine fell silent, no doubt thinking about Sebastian again.

Looking across at him, Kurt couldn't stand it. He didn't like that mournful look on the face that had been smiling a moment ago. Without really thinking about it, he dipped his chin right into the foamy egg whites. When he straightened up, they formed a long frothy beard. He nudged Blaine with his toes, and waited until he turned around before putting on his best old man voice.

“Hope can be found even in the darkest of times.” He said, wiggling his Dumbledore beard. “If one only remembers to turn on the light.”

Blaine looked at him in surprise and then threw his head back and laughed, properly, loudly, louder than Kurt had ever heard him laugh before. The instructor turned around and stopped talking mid-sentence. The whole class stared.

“Sorry,” Blaine gasped, clutching his belly. “I'm so sorry.”

He glanced at Kurt and couldn't keep it together, exploding into laughter again.

“Excuse me.” He choked out, smile splitting his face. “Excuse me.”

He stumbled out of the room and his laughter continued to sound out, loud enough for everyone to hear. The class turned to Kurt now. The egg white dripped from his chin and plunked onto the floor, and he smiled at them.

…

“Your cake is in the oven and the mousse for the middle is in the fridge.” Kurt said, joining Blaine outside and handing him his coat. “The cake will be twenty minutes, and then it needs to cool to for ten more before we add the mousse.”

Blaine watched Kurt, eyes alight, and then he laughed again, a fit of giggles consuming him. It was a contagious laugh, and soon Kurt was joining him. He slid down the wall to sit beside him on the ground.

After a while Blaine stopped giggling, and then broke into laughter two more separate times before he really calmed down.

“I haven't laughed this much in a long time.” Blaine said, his breath making puffs in the cold air.

“It wasn't even that funny.”

Blaine cracked up again.

“It was.” He insisted.

“If I'd known putting egg whites on my chin would make you this happy, I'd have done it days ago.” Kurt said.

“It's you.” Blaine said, gazing up at him with bright eyes. “You're a tonic. They should prescribe you for depression instead of pills.”

Kurt could have cried. But he smiled instead. It was the best assurance he could have had; the first thing that made him feel like he wasn't simply _in the way._ He was _helping_.

“Mm, and the second best cure is cake making.” He said, jabbing Blaine in the side with his elbow.

“Of course.”

They both sat there, thinking their own thoughts, for a few more minutes. Kurt wondered if this was the right time to admit that he felt out of his depth.

“Come on.” Blaine said, hopping to his feet and brushing off his hands before holding out one of them to help Kurt up. “Let's go in.”

They walked side by side and found that they were the last couple to get back to their stations. They ran to catch up and quickly as possible, Kurt already feeling on the edge of laughter because everyone was _looking_ at them again.

Blaine opened the oven for him and Kurt reached in for the cake.

It was the only one in the whole class to collapse in the middle.

At the exact same time, they melted into such hysterics that Kurt nearly wet himself. They were quickly asked to leave.

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

Kurt had managed to get permission to take their cake and their chocolate mousse with them when they left, although the whole thing was unfinished. They pulled over outside a corner store on their way to Sebastian's birthday dinner and dug out a hollow from the place where the cake sunk in. Even though it wasn't exactly how they were supposed to do things, they then filled the hole with the mousse that hadn't set properly.

Still in their giddy, almost drunken state, they stumbled into the store. Every little thing made them laugh, and Kurt felt high, now realising both of them had been starved of these emotions for far too long.

“Excuse me; we have this cake we need to decorate as quickly as possible.” Kurt said to the teenager behind the counter, holding up their mess of chocolate sponge and moussey gloop. “So can we just get some stuff from here?”

“Of course.” The guy said, eyeing the cake with confusion. “What do you want?”

“Oh, we can find it ourselves.” Blaine said. “It's okay if we decorate it in here, right?”

“Um,” the man looked very hesitant. Blaine pulled out his wallet and extracted a whole wad of cash. As soon as he handed them over, the man eyed them in awe and waved a hand. “Don't let me get in your way.”

“Thank you.” Kurt said.

Blaine was tugging on his sleeve, already laughing as he pointed at something. Kurt followed him to the back of the store, where there was a fridge filled with different drinks and-

“Cream!” Blaine announced, pulling out a can of whipped cream and shaking it vigorously. “Here - you're more artistic - you put it on while I hold the cake.”

Kurt exchanged the items. He didn't realize that Blaine hadn't shaken the can enough, so when he sprayed, cream exploded over Blaine's face and the cake in a dramatic puff of air.

“Oh my god!” He cackled, jumping back.

“I'd say that's twenty percent on the cake, eighty percent on me.” Blaine said cheerfully, licking his lips in the most over-the-top way.

Kurt laughed so hard at that it was a good five minutes before his hands were steady enough to try again. He gave the can a much better rattle before he started. This time the cream churned out in the perfect way. Kurt grinned, circling the nozzle round and round over the top of the cake until he'd created a swirl of white foam in a wonky spiral all the way to the centre.

Blaine then led them over to some buckets of different candy off to the left. He carefully selected a whole ton of gummy teeth and plopped them one by one down onto the surface.

“What do you think?” Blaine yelled to the teenager, holding up the cake and making the recent additions slide down the cream a little.

The stringy haired kid was unimpressed.

“I think it's missing something.”

Blaine burst out laughing. Kurt snickered, jabbing him in the side.

“How about you add something else then?”

Blaine took a considering glance around the store and then he was off, grabbing four packaged ice cream bars and returning to their corner. He opened the packets with his teeth and started smushing them to bits in his hands. Kurt joined him quickly, flicking the chunks onto the cake. Soon it was covered in ice cream and flecks of chocolate.

“Perfect.” Blaine said.

“This is the worst cake I've ever seen.” Kurt, tilting his head and trying not to crack up all over again.

“Exactly. It's perfect.” Blaine picked it up and beamed at him. “This way, he'll know I made it.”

On their way out the door Blaine suddenly stopped and grabbed a soccer ball shaped candle from the box on the counter.

“Sebastian used to play soccer.” he said happily.

…

They stood outside the restaurant and peered in at Sebastian and his friends through the window as discreetly as they could. It was freezing outside, and Kurt and Blaine huddled like penguins against the icy breeze.

“Today I'm feeling... freezing cold.” Blaine said. He earned a soft smile in return, the hysteria from earlier having retreated in favour of a sort of comfortable warm feeling.

“Do you know his friends?” Kurt asked, rubbing his gloved hands together.

“Yeah, they're his best friends.” Blaine answered. “Sebastian and I hang out with different people most of the time, but I know them all.”

They were all sophisticated, beautiful people, both girls and guys, who clearly enjoyed the fact that they were drawing the attention from several other tables of single people in the room, though they didn't look up from their little circle. They were completely caught up with their own conversation, loving life and the whole universe.

Kurt couldn't take his eyes off Sebastian. He reclined confidently at the head of the table and was clearly the center around which his other attractive friends moved in orbit. He was wearing a casual shirt that pulled off the perfect balance between expensive and effortless. His smile was constant and it was pretty clear that he was shooting off a steady stream of witty jokes, because the group kept overflowing with mirth whenever he opened his mouth. Yet he clearly balanced the sarcasm well with the perfect array of compliments and displays of affection, making each friend feel personally included under his attention. He was almost hypnotic in his confidence. No one seemed resistant to his charms.

One glance at Blaine told Kurt that Sebastian had the same effect on him.

Looking between them, it was so clear what a striking couple they would make, their beauty equal and yet distinctly original. Blaine watched him so sadly, like he didn't quite know how to be someone without him.

Kurt shook himself and stepped back. He didn't like this. He wanted to stop feeling like an imposter, like a cuckoo in the wrong nest. What had gone so wrong in his life that he'd resorted to standing frozen outside a restaurant watching another handsome man living a life he envied? Suddenly, Kurt didn't really want to be there anymore.

“At last!” Blaine cheered, clapping his hands as the table was cleared for dessert.

Kurt had delivered the cake to the restaurant. It had been a little tricky, staying out of sight of Sebastian while trying to explain to the staff why the off-kilter birthday cake needed to be given tothe birthday boy who was already ready seated, but he'd managed it. Now they only needed to wait until it arrived.

The cake came along with a procession of singing waitstaff, its candle alight and flickering. Blaine grinned as he saw Sebastian look up. Around him, his friends were throwing questioning glances at one another, trying to see who might have organised the extra surprise.

And then the cake was placed on the table.

And Sebastian stared at it. He was clearly trying to maintain a neutral expression at the sight of the mess in front of him, not wanting to offend whoever had made it. Then, slowly, understanding dawned on his face. One side of his mouth twitched up into a smile and he squeezed his eyes shut, blowing out the candle.

“He remembers.” Blaine breathed, never taking his eyes off the scene. “Thank god it actually made him remember.”

“He's meant to remember something?” Kurt asked.

“Oh yeah.” Blaine said. Sebastian started cutting the cake. “On one of our first dates, I went to watch one of his soccer games at Dalton. He'd just joined the team and he was already amazing. Except when I was cheering from the sidelines the ball came flying out and smacked me in the face. Chipped my tooth pretty badly. But he sweetly bought me an ice cream bar everyday for lunch for three days after because my teeth were too sore to eat solid foods.”

Inside, Sebastian was apparently telling the same story to his friends as he dished out the cake to everyone. They all seemed absolutely enchanted by everything he was saying, laughing along with him at all the right moments. Blaine laughed softly as well.

But Kurt couldn't seem to locate his own sense of humour.

And then Sebastian did something strange. He stopped laughing and started crying. In seconds, the party had closed in around him, so that he was totally out of sight. He was lost in a flood of hugs and comforting words.

Kurt looked at Blaine, who had tears in his eyes.

“It's really cold. I'm going to wait in the car with Pat. You can stay as long as you like.” He said, unable to stand waiting a moment longer. Honestly, he didn't think Blaine would really register him leaving at all.

He walked a few paces down the road before Blaine stopped him.

“Hey, Mr. Fix-It, Wait!” He called.

Kurt turned around.

Blaine was holding up two gloved hands, his expression expectant. It took Kurt a moment to realize what he intended by it, and when he did, he rolled his eyes. He obligingly high-fived the outstretched hands and Blaine's fingers curled around his, clasping them together. Kurt's heart fluttered.

“You're a genius.” Blaine said. “You know that?”

“People have only been telling me my entire life, so I guess I might be aware of the fact.” Kurt joked. Blaine's face split with a smile. “Wouldn't hurt to hear it again, of course.”

“You're a genius.” Blaine repeated obligingly.

“Still... we don't have Sebastian back yet.”

Blaine looked over at the restaurant. Sebastian was in sight again, wiping his eyes with a napkin.

 _Not yet._ Kurt thought. _But we almost do._

His sense of relief was very much mixed in with a sadness he really didn't want to examine. He didn't have time to anyway, because Sebastian was suddenly standing and pulling on his coat.

“Shit, did he see you?” Kurt asked, tugging on Blaine's hands to draw him away from the window.

“He can't have.” He replied in mild panic.

They walked on as quickly as possible without running suspiciously. It was only when they were a safe distance away, on the corner of the street, out of earshot and shrouded in shadows, that they turned back to look at Sebastian again.

He was standing outside the restaurant, phone illuminating his face. Suddenly, Blaine's phone started ringing. His hand flew into his pocket and silenced it, but he pulled it out and looked at it almost desperately.

“Don't answer it.” Kurt said.

“I know.” Blaine agreed. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Kurt nodded. They were quiet a while, watching Sebastian.

“Did you ever want Adam to try and get you back?” Blaine asked.

“Not really.” Kurt said. “Once I make up my mind I like to keep it that way, you know? And he never really tried.”

“Maybe he is.” Blaine mulled. “With all the messages he leaves.”

“A few days ago he told a mutual friend of ours that I hate her New Years Eve parties and I despise going to her house annually for them because she gets her intolerable tone-deaf kids to sing for us. She texted me, very upset and angry about it. I'm uninvited from all future parties with her forever.”

“Okay.” Blaine looked amazed. “So he's probably not trying to get you back.”

“No kidding.”

“Did you tell your friend is wasn't true?”

Kurt looked at him.

“It is true.”

“Oh.” Blaine was suddenly holding back laughter. “Do you pee in the shower too?”

Kurt was very thankful that the darkness hid the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Maybe not _everything_ is true.”

“It _is_ true!” Blaine jabbed him in the side with his elbow. “You pee in the shower.”

“I- you- that's-” Kurt spluttered. “Shut up.”

Blaine's phone signalled a voicemail.

“That was a long one.” Kurt said, glancing over at Sebastian, who had just tucked his phone away and took a moment to wrap his arms around himself and stare up at the sky. “Let's listen.”

“Blaine, it's me.” Sebastian's voice was full of emotion, yet it played at lightness. “I got your cake. It was the ugliest and most disgustingly thoughtful thing I've ever received. You know I hate that sentimental crap and you keep springing it on me? I've cried in front of so many people lately. I- I kind of didn't mind though. I loved the cake. I'll never forget that day- that whole week.”

Blaine was holding Kurt's hand again. He squeezed it tightly.

“You're crazy. I've missed that side of you. But I kind of feel like you're back again. My Blaine. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I hope I can tell you that in person soon. I just- I never wanted this to happen to us.” He took a shaky breath after that. “I just wanted to say thank you I guess. So, Blaine, thank you.”

And then the message was over.

Blaine was grinning from ear to ear.

He grabbed Kurt and squished him into the tightest hug possible, trying to lift him up and spin him around. Kurt laughed loudly, squirming, voice echoing out down the dark street, so that it drifted down towards Sebastian. They didn't need to worry though. When he looked up, all Sebastian could see was a couple in the dark, one man setting the other gently on his feet, and taking his hand. Two shrouded strangers, focused on one another, hiding in the shadows, and quite possibly in love.

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

 

Kurt's phone rang after they arrived back at the apartment.

“Sorry, I better take this.” Kurt said to Blaine, because it was Quinn. His friend nodded understandingly and walked off toward the guest room. Kurt waited until he was out of sight before answering. “Hello?”

“Kurt, it's me.” Quinn's voice was quiet, but not broken or upset the way he had been expecting, which made him relax.

“How are you?” Kurt asked.

“I'm okay.” Quinn said. “A little lonely.”

“I'm sorry I haven't really been th-”

“You've done as much as you could, Kurt. I know you have a lot going on, what with Dave and Blaine and Adam. And Blaine.” There was a smile in her voice.

“Let's not go there.”

“Adam sent me a really sweet text about Mom.” Quinn quickly told him something that she knew would comfort him a little.

“He did? That's good.” Kurt said. “Maybe he's feeling less...”

He never finished his sentence, so Quinn ploughed on.

“How is Blaine anyway?”

“He's good. A lot better.” Kurt's fingers were messing up his hair again of their own accord. “Soon he might be okay on his own so... no more me... which is... great.”

“Sure.” Her voice was coated in disbelief.

“It is great. I want him to get better.” Kurt said. Quinn hummed in agreement. “I'm just happy I could help.”

“Uh-huh.” She clearly knew there was something more to the story, even if Kurt himself hadn't even fully grasped what that 'something more' actually was.

“Stop it, Quinn. I'm trying to be serious.”

“I can tell.” Quinn chuckled. “Okay, sorry. I won't pick on you. I was actually calling to-”

“Calling to....?” He questioned when she suddenly stopped mid sentence.

“I've been going through mom's things.” She was fluttering a piece of paper rather vigorously in the background. “And I found something.”

“What?”

“Um, it's a storage unit. Hired in Mom's name. But she's never told me a single thing about it, even though I always took care of our finances. It was even paid for by direct debit. An account I don't recognize.” She sighed. “I wouldn't have even known about it if I hadn't found the envelope containing all the information. Along with a key.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I- I don't know.” Quinn sounded so much younger.

“Let me help you. I'll meet up with you tomorrow. We can- can work this out together.” Kurt's mind was already whirring with possibilities.

“I want to go to the storage unit.” Quinn said. She sounded distant, thoughtful. “I want to know why she went to all this trouble just to hide it from me.”

…

Kurt and Blaine met Quinn at the storage facility the following day. Kurt was, quite frankly, glad for the distraction caused by Quinn's life. His own problems were hard for him to think about right now, and even worse, Blaine's mood had dipped that morning too. He had gone through the crisis plan and spent the whole car trip plugged into his iPod, listening to music, moody and unresponsive.

Now, as they walked down a row of storage units, Blaine seemed to perk up the smallest fraction, pulling his headphones out and stuffing them into his pocket.

“Maybe your mother was a secret agent and inside we'll find a collection of forged papers and secret identities and clever disguises.” Kurt said, sensing that Quinn needed a light-hearted distraction. He glanced at Blaine, trying to cue him in.

“Or maybe this will be a huge porn collection that you were never meant to know about.” Blaine said quickly.

Quinn winced.

“Your parents used to be into BDSM and this is their sex dungeon.” Kurt built on the idea, and this time Quinn groaned and covered her face.

“Gross.” She complained.

“Nice.” Blaine complimented him.

“Thanks.” Kurt could already see tension lifting off Quinn's shoulders.

“Okay... what if your parents both embezzled millions and it's waiting in stacks of ten dollar bills for you to cart it away bit by bit.” Blaine suggested.

“Now _that_ would be nice.” Quinn, said, walking backwards a few steps just to point a finger at Blaine.

On their right, the unit labelled 122 seemed to appear out of no where.

“Wait, here we are.” Kurt stopped them the moment he noticed it. “We're looking for 122, right?”

The other two stared up at it as well. Quinn took a deep breath before extracting her key from her bag, sticking it into the lock, slowly pushing open the large industrial door.

They were greeted with musty darkness.

Kurt fumbled along the wall until he found a switch, flicking it on.

“Woah.” Blaine breathed.

Now that the room was all lit up, they could see the walls, ten feet by ten, were lined with shelves, and filled with box after dusty box. The one in the bottom left hand corner was labelled with 1986, and then each box filled the space for a different year right up to a box labelled a few years ago.

“That's the year they got married, I think.” Quinn said, staring at the first box.

She stepped forward and slid it down off the shelf, breaking it open easily because it wasn't sealed.

Inside, it was filled with different wedding related items. Several photos of the ceremony and ones taken with the bridal party afterward, a dried flower from the bouquet, and old invitation. These were packed in beside photos from what was clearly the honeymoon, a plane ticket, several cards.

Forget a memory box, this was a memory room.

“She kept everything.” Quinn shook her head in disbelief, abandoning her box to walk along the wall, running her hand across date after date. She came to a stop beside the final box, and took a deep breath. “This is when mom had her stroke.”

Before Kurt could work out what to say, Blaine was stepping forward and pulling down a random box, handing it to Quinn with a smile.

“Come on then.” He said gently. “We may as well get started.”

She took the box off him.

“Let's do it then.”

Soon the floor was littered with assorted items from throughout the years. There were old school reports, pictures of Quinn when she'd been a lot younger and far less happy with the way she looked, a hair ribbon from her first day of school, her first tooth, prints of her hands and feet at several stages, a letter she had written to her father to apologize after an argument, her cheerleading uniform, a picture of her holding the baby she'd given birth to in her second year of high school.

Kurt was amazed by the sheer amount of things Mrs. Fabray had bothered to keep. It was like every moment was precious to her, completely private and hidden, yet so, so special.

Even Blaine was remarkably patient, looking over everything with them, seeming touched by what he saw. Kurt hoped it would be good for him, to see the love stuffed into one room.

“I still can't believe she kept these photos.” Quinn said, holding up one where she had braces and chubby cheeks; it was completely adorable. “I begged her to get rid of them when I first moved to Lima and had my makeover. She always swore she did.”

“Are you annoyed?” Kurt asked.

“God, no.” Quinn shook her head vigorously. “I'm so glad she kept them. They’re actually really cute.”

“I wonder why she hid this room from you?” Blaine said aloud, too engrossed in a picture book they'd found in one of the boxes to realize that he was addressing the elephant in the room.

Quinn dropped the photo in her hands. She had the strangest expression on her face, like she was steeling herself for something.

“Quinn?” Kurt asked.

“I need to get one more box.” Quinn said firmly, as though convincing herself to do it even though there was no objection.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a confused glance. Quinn was on her feet, scanning the shelves, counting the numbers down as she moved, until she reached the exact item she wanted. She pulled it down and carried it over.

“This is the year I was born.” She told them.

They could only watch as she opened the box and took out the piece of paper lying on the very top. It had clearly been folded and then unfolded before it was filed away, and she smoothed out the creases now, reading.

“ _My dear baby, Lucy Quinn,_

_I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I will never care for you the way I should. When you are older, I hope with all my heart that you will be able to understand my decision, and see why, despite how much I love you, I can never keep you._

_I know you'll be safe with the Fabrays. They are a good family, from what I have seen. They will take good care of you and surely love you as their own. I have already seen that they would do almost anything for their own baby girl._

_I will think of you every day for as long as I live._

_I love you,_

_Your Mommy”_

…

They ended up sitting around Quinn's kitchen, reading the note aloud again. Brittany, who had been taking care of the store downstairs, joined them now. She listened to their story intently, running through the items in the one box they had brought back.

“These were all handmade.” She said, playing with the buttons on a baby-sized cardigan.

“So?” Quinn asked. “That's hardly what I'm worried about.”

“But do you realize what kind of lace this is?”

“Who _cares_ what kind of lace it is?” Quinn sounded exasperated.

“How do you even _know_ what kind of lace this is?” Kurt asked.

“I know things about lace.” Brittany said rather ambiguously. “And, well, it's just that this kind of lace was only ever made back in the eighties, and only in a very particular area.”

Quinn stared at Brittany in surprise.

“Are you saying I could find my parents?” She breathed.

“Every item in this box points to one place.” Brittany said. “Quinn, I think I know where your biological mother might be.”

Kurt watched the awed smile spreading across Quinn's face. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled in a huff. This was insane.

…

It was dark by the time they started driving back to Columbus, having spent the rest of the afternoon trying to makes plans with Quinn and Brittany on how they would track down her mother. Blaine was quiet, sleepy, and thoughtful.

“Quinn didn't seem all that surprised did she?” He asked suddenly. “The way she went straight to the year she was born. Like she already knew.”

“She was so shocked though.” Kurt protested, but deep down he was pretty sure Blaine was right. “It was hardly like she expected it.”

“I still think on some level she must have known.” Blaine said. “You know, like when you know something but at the same time you don't really know?”

There it was again. That sentence. Kurt looked over at him in surprise. Blaine was blinking, slow and drowsy, and his thoughts spilled out in a tired babble.

“I'm worried about Quinn trying to find her Mom though.” He continued. “She's not really thinking straight right now. Her whole world just got toppled on its head and I feel like she's clinging to a plan that might not necessarily work.”

Kurt bit his lip, those words really ringing true. Not about Quinn, but about _Blaine._

 _His_ world had almost ended last Sunday night. He wasn't thinking properly either. He was pinning all his hopes on their plan to make it right. A plan that, if it didn't work, might actually shatter him; might literally kill him.

Kurt swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

Blaine had fallen asleep. His head rested on the window, his mouth slightly open, ridiculously long eyelashes fanned out against his cheeks. Kurt's heart fluttered again. His lip trembled as he felt tears welling up. It was time for him to admit it, at least to himself.

He had a crush on Blaine.

A rather large, I-just-want-you-to-be-happy-for-the-rest-of-your-life-and-maybe-see-you-every-day-from-now-on-as-often-as-I-can kind of crush. A we-have-so-much-in-common-and-we-could-actually-work-and-it-kills-me-that-it-probably-won't-ever-happen kind of crush.

With the realization came a rather sudden and pressing sense of guilt. Kurt's fists clenched around the steering wheel. He willed himself not to cry.

Because he shouldn't be doing this. He needed to stop _feeling_ for Blaine.

He needed to actually tackle Blaine's problems in a way that would help him, and he needed to forget about his own inappropriate attachment. That way, when all of this was done and Blaine's birthday had passed, Kurt could say goodbye without breaking his own heart.

…

Before they went to bed, Blaine appeared, still loose and exhausted, in Kurt's doorway.

“Goodnight.” He said.

“Goodnight, Blaine.” Kurt said. “If it's okay with you, I was thinking tomorrow we could go out to Westerville. We've set enough groundwork with Sebastian right now, and I think it's time to focus on the company for a while. We'll find a solution, and be back in time for your birthday. Then we can announce that you won't take over Devon Andersons.”

“That's okay with me.” Blaine agreed. He didn't sound like he believed it would work though.

“We'll be able to do this you know.” Kurt didn't like the lost look on Blaine's face. “Soon we'll have Sebastian back, and you'll have the company off your back, and then we can work on getting your old job back and I'll be out of your hair.”

Blaine didn't look very happy.

“Hey, don't be upset.” Kurt said. “We're almost there.”

“Yeah, but-”

“We still have one more thing to do for Sebastian before we leave if you're worried about leaving him as it is now.” Kurt said quickly. “There's a box right there by your foot.”

He nodded toward the package sitting in the doorway. It had arrived that day, and Kurt had immediately brought it into his bedroom. There was one thing that insomnia was good for. Online shopping.

Blaine crouched down in his too long pyjama pants and opened the box. His beautiful face lit up with amazement.

“Kurt, I wish the world was filled with people like you!”

“So you know what the plan is?”

“I have a pretty good idea of it.” Blaine said, pulling the hand held speakers out of the box.

“Okay Blaine, goodnight. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” Blaine said, eyes scrunching even more as his smile widened before he vanished from the doorway.

 _Kurt, I wish the world was filled with people like you._ The words seemed to hang there in the darkness.

 _I wish you would fill your world with me._ Kurt couldn't help thinking.

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

 

Eager for his next project, Blaine was bouncing on the balls of his feet in the middle of the mall. He couldn't keep still, overflowing with excitement. In one hand, he held the set of speakers Kurt had purchased online. In the other, he held his iPod, with the music completely ready to go. All he had to do was wait for his ex-boyfriend and then click play.

Sebastian appeared, playing with his phone, not looking where he was going. He headed straight for the Gap, not even noticing his ex-boyfriend was standing right around the corner, grinning at Kurt in anticipation.

As soon as Sebastian had disappeared inside, Blaine was off, pressing the speaker in his hand and slowly pumping up the volume. Kurt followed him inside, immediately leaning against a rack in the corner to watch.

The first notes of 'When I Get You Alone' started to play.

Sebastian’s head snapped up. He turned toward Blaine, who was standing in the middle of the room, trying to stop his face from breaking into a smirk. As Sebastian shook his head in awed disbelief, Blaine started to sing.

“ _Baby girl, where you at? Got no strings, got none attached....”_

He performed the whole song at full energy, following Sebastian in a teasing and playfully flirty way around the store.

Sebastian seemed perhaps a little overwhelmed, but he managed to keep his cool, laughing at the top of his lungs at some of Blaine's more ambitious dance moves. His eyes sparkled as he waited, smile almost predatory yet somehow fond, until Blaine finished the song.

But before Sebastian could speak, Blaine had winked at him and darted out of the doors, sprinting across the mall as Kurt slipped out, unnoticed, behind him, watching confusion flood Sebastian's face.

The two of them waited around the corner, beaming and hi-fiving one another, until Sebastian left the Gap and started walking across the mall. They followed him. In the next store, Blaine waited a few moments and launched into his routine all over again.

...

After being serenaded over and over in three different places, Sebastian started looking for Blaine before he arrived. He would scan the entrances to a shop as soon as he got inside, eagerly awaiting the next song. He didn't try to speak to him for the first few songs, preferring to just watch, and Blaine was glad, because he and Kurt had decided to leave the mall as soon as that happened. They needed to keep Sebastian waiting. Blaine still wasn't ready to talk to him yet.

So when he finished the fifth run through of the song, and Sebastian reached out a hand, Blaine stepped back, shaking his head.

“Blaine,” Sebastian said, and he sounded emotional.

Blaine winked at him, turned on his heel, and fled.

Sebastian burst out laughing. He threw his head back and let amusement overtake him.

“You're a madman!” He called after the retreating back of his ex-boyfriend.

Blaine didn't reply, and Sebastian was left, chuckling fondly, leaning against the nearest stack of clothes to keep himself from falling over with laughter.

It was a good thing he couldn't seen around the corner, because if he could, he probably would have stopped laughing. He would have come face to face with the couple from the dark street the night before, hugging one another again and giggling with elated excitement even louder than he was.

But Sebastian couldn't see around the corner.

So Sebastian never noticed the man following Blaine through shop after shop, supporting him, encouraging him, smiling a hopeful smile. If he had noticed, he might have stopped laughing; he might have wondered who the display was really for.

…

“Come on madman.” Kurt said, shoving the speakers in his bag and grinning. “Time to get some lunch. Chasing Sebastian all over the mall made me really hungry.”

“Hungry?” Blaine exclaimed in mock surprise. “I can't believe my ears.”

Kurt rolled his eyes and lead Blaine across to a cafe nearby. They sat at a table in the corner and in no time at all, both of them had cleared their plates completely.

“Look how far we've come.” Blaine said, gesturing to his plate.

“And in such a short time. We should get a 'finished a whole meal' prize.”

“I feel like I've known you forever.” Blaine gave Kurt that look that made his stomach flip.

With those gold eyes trained on his face, the knowledge of how their whole friendship would end suddenly bore down on Kurt. He regretted eating anything. He felt vaguely sick again.

“Today you're feeling?” Kurt asked as a distraction.

“Stuffed?” Blaine said it like a question.

“It's not a quiz you know. You can't give me the wrong answer.”

“Well, I'm also feeling... happy.” Blaine played with his glass. “Restored- no wait – renewed? Like I'm becoming more like myself again. Does that make sense?”

Kurt had to look the other way. He didn't want his face to reveal too much.

“That's great Blaine. Winning over Sebastian is really helping then?”

For some reason, Blaine looked a little confused.

“Are you ready to go back to Westerville and try take care of the business now?” Kurt asked.

“Yeah, I guess.” Blaine grimaced. “That didn't go so well at the hospital with Dad though.”

“We'll find a better way to fix things.” Kurt tried to reassure him. “Hey, speaking of that day, did you actually meet up with your cousin Nigel?”

“I did.” Blaine sighed. “But I never actually promised any sort of deal with him. I only really agreed to meeting him because I thought it would be good to actually _see_ him. We hadn't met face to face since I was twelve. That's how bad the gap between our side of the family had become. I wanted to know what he actually intended for the company.”

“You wanted a truce.”

“As far as I was concerned, the fight was between our fathers, not us. I thought there might be some way out. I even thought he could run the company the way it should be run.” Blaine pouted. “But he just talked on and one about trying a merger, the two of us working together to head a better version of the company, as if we were going to make the deal right away.”

“So you told him no?”

“I _listened_ first. I mean, I wasn't sure it would be so bad. It could help leave behind all that history between our families. But _then_ he said that he just wanted to fix everything up and sell it out. Pass Devon Andersons on to the highest bidder. Told me we could spend the rest of our lives just lying on a beach somewhere.” Blaine shook his head.

“Wouldn’t selling the company solve your problems?”

“No. I couldn't do that to something so precious to our family. I may not want to run the company, but I don't want to run it into the ground. I have a lot of people relying on me. I want to make the best decision for all of them, put Devon Anderson's in the right hands.”

“Would Cooper ever sell the company?” Kurt asked.

“Probably. I mean, I bet he'd take the ten years work to get his inheritance and then sell it off when he finished. He gets... incredibly restless when he's stuck in one place. But it's not like Cooper's choices would be a factor anymore.” Blaine clenched his jaw. “I just wish _I_ had a way to solve it.”

“Blaine,” Kurt hesitated. “If you had jumped- if you do jump - then what would happen to the company?”

“If I had jumped, it wouldn't matter to me anymore. It wouldn't affect me. That was the whole _point_.” Blaine tossed a heap of cash on the table, stood up, and marched out of the cafe.

…

When they got home, Blaine slumped off to his room to “pack” for their trip down to Westerville. Kurt peeked in the door long enough to see him just lying there, his headphones in. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, the house phone started ringing from the kitchen.

“Hello?” Kurt answered it.

“Hey kiddo.” Burt's voice was cheerful, but there was obvious concern in it. “Thought I'd call in and check up on you. How are you?”

“I'm good, Dad. We're both good.” Kurt could already feel himself relaxing. “It's nice to hear your voice though.”

“It's always nice to hear my voice.” Burt joked.

“Yeah.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “And how are you, Dad?”

“I'm good. Taking Carole out for dinner tonight.”

“Breadstix?” Kurt asked.

“ _Maybe_.” Burt pretended he hadn't already decided.

Kurt laughed.

“I'm not surprised.”

Burt huffed, pretending to be annoyed. But, only seconds later, Kurt could hear his breathing change as he slipped into serious mode.

“Is Blaine seeing a therapist yet?” He asked gently.

“No.” Kurt sighed, hand pushing back his hair. “He refuses to do that.”

“You've really taken on a lot here, Kurt.”

“I know that. But I had to. I think it really was one of those things I had to do.”

“I know.” Burt was quiet. “I just hope this is affecting you in a positive way rather than stressing you out.”

“I'm fine.” Kurt knew that if anyone could hear the lie in his breezy voice, it was his father.

“What are you going to do tomorrow?” Burt asked, acting like things were as normal as Kurt was pretending, very deliberately trying to give Kurt the chance to admit how out of his depth he was without having the information forced out of him.

“We're thinking of heading to his family’s home tomorrow.”

“ _Who's 'we'?”_

Rachel's voice almost gave Kurt a heart attack. He'd forgotten she and Finn would be visiting with Elphie today. She must have picked up the other phone to listen in.

“What the _hell_ , Rachel?” He hissed. “I'm trying to talk to Dad. Is there no privacy in this family?”

“I'm just sitting in the living room minding my own business. How was I meant to know you were on the other end of the phone?” She tried to sound as innocent as possible. “I just picked it up to call someone and Burt was already talking.”

“Don't be stupid.” Kurt snapped.

“So who's 'we'?” Rachel didn't allow him to ignore her question. “Is it you and the suicide guy?”

“His name is Blaine.” Kurt defended. “Don't be rude.”

“Sorry.” Rachel said. Burt was chuckling. “Have you guys kissed yet?”

Kurt put his head in his hands. He could hear his Dad's amusement break out into proper laughter.

“No!” He said. “I'm helping Blaine to get back with his boyfriend.”

“I see.” Rachel sounded disappointed. He could practically see her pretending to pout. “On a different note, Adam called again last night. He was drunk, just like last time. He thinks you must have been sleeping with one of the models you work with and _that's_ why you left him.”

“Fuck that.” Kurt couldn't cope with all of this anymore.

“Kurt, language.” Burt teased.

Kurt didn't say sorry. He just wanted to fall into bed and sleep for _ever_. Why did things like this keep piling up on top of him?

It took him a moment to notice that Rachel was still talking.

“Adam also said that _you_ said Finn will never lose the baby fat he's expecting to disappear, because it's not baby fat, it's lazy fat!” Rachel snorted. “As if you hadn't already told Finn that to his face. I actually got him to go for a run with me this morning you know? Elphie was so cute all bundled up in her stroller. I made Finn push her of course, and-”

“Look guys, I think I'm just going to go to bed.” Kurt interrupted. “I'm really sorry but I'm exhausted.”

“Wait, one more thing!” Rachel said quickly.

“What?”

“What are you wearing to Blaine's birthday party?”

“I don't know.” Kurt raked a hand through his hair again. He could see his reflection in the microwave. It was totally messed up. “I'm more focused on keeping the birthday boy alive.”

“Well I can't wait see what you wear.” Rachel said, suddenly quieter, as if realising how serious things were. “I'll let you go to bed. Bye bye, Kurt.”

“Goodnight Rachel.” Kurt said. He listened to her end of the phone shuffle as she hung up, and then it was just his Dad left.

“You know I'm never going to tell you what to do. You keep living your life. Just...” Burt sighed. “Take care of yourself, okay kiddo?”

“Yes Dad.” Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the phone very tightly. “I will.”

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

 

Kurt knew he couldn't help Quinn find her parents. He didn't have the time to engage in a wild goose chase across Ohio. He did, however, hope he could point her toward someone who had plenty of time to help.

After two quick phone calls, he managed to find someone who might just fit the requirements. His name was Noah Puckerman, and he was a good friend of Finn's from college. For the last five years or so, he had been working as a private detective in a office located in suburban Columbus. Finn gave him the address and updated him on everything he knew about Puck's job.

After finding all of this out, Kurt called to double-check with Detective Lopez, whom he already knew he could trust. He had actually met Puck several times, and while he liked the guy well enough, he wasn't sure that he actually seemed the responsible type. He figured it would be best to try and get an opinion from someone who knew what they were talking about. Luckily, Lopez had heard of Detective Puckerman, and although she said his name with a slight sneer in her voice, she grudgingly admitted that he was good at what he did. She also made sure to tell him that Puck would take on any project if a hot girl was asking him to do it.

Kurt had decided that would have to be good enough.

He was now leading Quinn and Blaine up the staircase beside a corner store. He was glad that Puck worked out here in a suburban area, because he didn't think he would have coped with approached some shady office in between trashy buildings and creepy alleyways. Out here, with houses all around them and the sunlight poking through the clouds, things felt far less intimidating. Above the store, the detective's office was near impossible to spot. Only a single sign declared him as an “Independent Private Detective”, and when they reached the top of the stairs, they found a bright red door and a small bronze plate etched with his name.

Because Kurt wanted to let Quinn do this herself, explore her past independently, he planned to introduce them and then leave. That way, Quinn would have all of the power.

“I can't do this.” She said, fist raised inches away from knocking of the red door.

Kurt felt instantly disappointed. He paused for a second, trying to think how to respond.

“Okay.” He said slowly. “We don't have to do this right away.”

Quinn glanced at him and then back at the door. She bit her lip.

“Aren't you going to argue?” She questioned him. “Convince me to go inside? You were the one who tried to find this guy for me, after all.”

“I'm not going to force you into anything, Quinn.” Kurt said gently.

“Right. Yeah. That's probably...” She stared at the door. For some reason, she looked disappointed.

“We should do this now.” Blaine said from the step below Kurt.

He looked like he understood something more in the situation. Kurt realised at that exact moment that Quinn actually _wanted_ them to talk her into this.

“He's kind of right, Q. If you want to find your birth mother, this is the best way to begin.”

“You're right.” She looked nervous, but she managed a weak smile. “You’re right I should do this.”

Quinn paused one more time before she lifted her hand and knocked firmly on the centre of the door.

There was a loud clatter from inside.

“Who's there?”

Kurt recognised Puck's voice instantly, and he felt like he'd fallen straight back into the past. He was nineteen years old again, knocking on Finn's door at college and finding his roommate inside. As always, Puck managed to sound cocky and yet endearingly, childishly excited all at once.

“Kurt.” He answered.

“Kurt?” Puck's surprise was evident. “What are you doing here, dude? I haven't seen you for months!”

As he spoke, he had apparently leaped up and approached the door, because Kurt could now hear several locks being undone on the other side.

“I've just brought some friends around to meet you.” Kurt said.

The noises stopped. Puck was still.

“Who are your friends?” He asked. He sounded incredibly suspicious; like he was expecting an ambush. “Look, bro, if this is about your boyfriend then I'm sorry I spoke to him that way, but he was way out of line calling me like that. You guys must have some fucking brilliant sex to hold your relationship together, and I respect that, I really do. But even if you haven't hung out that much, I still think you're a pretty cool guy, okay? And so I didn't really take too kindly to him insulting you. I totally get if you both made up and you wanted to come and tell me off for how much I threatened him but I-”

“Puck, please stop talking.” Kurt said, closing him eyes and holding in his temper. Adam must really be getting down far in his contacts list. “Just open the door.”

“I'm warning you right now that I can't be held responsible if you try to fight me and I beat you up.” Puck said, but nevertheless, he still unlocked the door the rest of the way.

It swung open, only a few inches, and they had the view of half of his face as he examined Kurt's companions. Kurt didn't miss the grin that lit his eyes at the sight of Quinn. Suddenly, the door was pulled open the rest of the way and he was smiling a charming smile at them all, sweeping a hand to welcome the inside.

“Sorry about that.” He said. “Part of the job. Gotta be careful.”

He closed the door behind them, clicked one of four bolts into place, and turned a key.

“Noah Puckerman, private detective.” He said smoothly, sticking out his hand to Quinn and announcing his name like it was a pickup line. “But you can call me Puck.”

“Have you not met Quinn before?” Kurt asked, confused. “Surely she's been at one of Finn's get togethers at the same time as you.”

“I saw her once sucking face with some guy but other than that, no.”

“How on earth do you remember _that_?” Quinn scoffed, and Kurt was very proud to see that she seemed totally unaffected by the mention of James. He found he wasn't actually surprised to see how quickly she'd overcome her sadness after their breakup.

“Because you're gorgeous.” Puck said, like it should be obvious.

Before Quinn could do more than raise an eyebrow, he was turning to present an outstretched hand to Blaine as well.

“Are you Kurt's new boyfriend or something?” Puck asked.

“Uh, no.” Blaine said. “I'm just his friend. I'm Blaine.”

“I see.” Puck said. He looked at Blaine for a moment longer before turning suddenly to Kurt, his grin widening.

Before Kurt could say anything, Puck had yanked him in close for a hug and then dropped him back onto his feet.

“Right.” He said, clapping his hands together and flopping into the seat behind his desk. “How can I help you?”

Kurt couldn't help noticing that Quinn was checking him out. Her green eyes roved over his muscular arms, visible because his shirt sleeves were rolled right up, and then settled on his handsome face.

“We're here because of Quinn.” Kurt said. “She recently discovered that her parents are not her biological parents, and she's interested in tracking down her birth mother.”

“We have this.” Quinn added, gently placing the shoebox marked with her birthyear onto Puck's desk. The Detective opened it with surprising care and started to lay out the objects inside, shoving a messy pile of papers out of his way as he did so. Quinn began to explain everything Brittany had told her about the lace.

“So you're saying that all of these leads to one place?” Puck summarized.

“Well, we don't know that for sure.” Kurt said quickly. He and Blaine were both worried that Quinn was getting her hopes up too high. “It could easily have just been purchased in that area or gifted by a relative who lived there or...”

“It's a start though.” Puck said, shooting Quinn a quick smile. “Maybe we should head down there and start a search.”

“So you think my friend is right?” Quinn asked.

“I think your friend is a genius.” Puck replied. “It was very clever of her to see this right away. I mean, I probably would have worked out the lace thing at some point myself but-”

“No you wouldn't.” Quinn scoffed.

Puck looked surprised, like he wasn't used to women questioning the claims he made, but Quinn was used to cheap flirting. She wouldn't be taken in that easily. Kurt liked that. He liked the way they were looking at each other, like they were each fascinated and begrudgingly impressed with the other. As he thought about it, Kurt realized they could make a good couple. They would suit each other, in the strangest way.

“Okay, maybe I wouldn't.” Puck allowed, inclining his head. “But either way, we have the information now. Do you want to take the trip? We'll be on track to finding your biological parents in no time.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

“I've had plenty of adoption cases.” Puck defended himself. “We'll follow the clues we have and in the meantime I can get in contact with some adoption agencies and have them work on the papers. I would be there to assist you through the process at every stage and help you to really get the best leads.”

“I did try to look at adoption agencies.” Quinn confessed. “But the thing is, I couldn't find anything. I'm worried that the adoption might not have been done entirely legally. My father was always one for appearances and I'm not sure he would have liked to have anyone aware that I wasn't his biological daughter.”

“Yeah that makes sense.” Puck said. “That does make things a littler harder. But I think we can still do it. What do you say?”

“How much do you cost?” Blaine piped up. He had been standing rather quietly in the background up until now.

“That depends on whether we find them or not. I don't charge nearly as much if I don't produce a result. It'll just be a little for my time. Since we're travelling for this case, some of that money can always be converted to you paying for accommodations.” Puck shrugged. “We can discuss costs and come up with something that will suit you best.”

He watched Quinn's considering expression for a moment and began to rifle about on his desk. He found a small piece of paper and handed it over, allowing Quinn to look at his usual costs.

“I can't promise miracles.” He said, suddenly serious. “But I have found parents, reunited families. I've succeeded at this in the past. I may not have the most impressive set up here, but I get things done, and I pay the bills I need to pay. Usually anyway.”

He offered a mischievous smile.

Quinn took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes again, they were steely and determined.

“Deal.” She said, and she held out her hand.

...

“I know this is crazy.” Quinn said, keeping her voice down as they walked to the car. Puck was escorting them, but he was a few steps ahead, beside Blaine. “But I have to get out of Lima for a while. I need to take a break and get away from the shop and- and everything that reminds me of mom. I just _miss_ her, and I'm hoping this'll give me something else to focus on while I get used to the idea that she's gone.”

“Do you think the trip will really help?” Kurt asked.

“I have no idea.” Quinn said honestly. “But I know Mom thought it was the right time to move on, and we had really good closure. I don't want to be moping around the apartment, so I think this could be a really good way for me to start adjusting.”

“And Puck?” He probed, sensing that the detective might be a part of her desire to do this.

“Puck's cute.” Quinn allowed.

Kurt noticed that there was a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. He didn't push the topic, but he couldn't help smiling. As they fell silent, he could hear Blaine and Puck's conversation up ahead.

“So how did you meet Kurt?” Puck was saying.

“On a bridge.”

“Which one?”

“Main Street.”

“That's romantic.” Puck said suggestively, slapping Blaine's back as if they were old friends. Blaine looked hesitant, but he smiled at him.

“Thanks for helping me.” Quinn said, drawing Kurt's attention back to her again.

“That's what friends are for.” Kurt said. “But can I ask you a question? When we were in the storage room, you went straight to the box with your birth year. Did you suspect?”

“I always wondered.” Quinn admitted. “Sometimes I would ask Mom for stories about what it was like when she was pregnant with me, and she always gave such vague answers. Neither of my parents ever wanted to talk about it. And there was this one time, just after Dad kicked me out, when I happened to see them in the supermarket. They were talking really quietly, but I heard Dad saying 'it's a bloody cycle and she's gone and turned out to be the same high school tramp as her mother'.”

“What a dick.” Kurt said. He had never forgiven Quinn's father for kicking her out and ignoring her ever since.

“I never knew if they had been talking about me that day, and I never knew if their reluctance to talk about Mom's pregnancy meant what I thought it meant. But, yeah, I never stopped wondering.”

“Quinn, you aren't just looking for your birth mother so that you can replace your own mother, are you?” Kurt was worried. He couldn't help voicing the concern that had been hanging in the back of his mind unacknowledged.

“No.” She said, and it was clear she meant it. “My Mom is irreplaceable. This isn't about her. I just feel like- like I got out of high school and tried college, and then before I could really work out who I wanted to be, Mom got sick. So I took care of her. And I dated James. And I did all those things that felt right for me at the time. But now is my chance to just focus entirely on _me_. James is out of the way, and Puck is _cute_ , and I might find a huge part of my past, and a mother who I can really identify with because I went through the same thing she did. I don't even care if this doesn't become anything. I just want to go on an adventure for once. I deserve it.”

“You do.” Kurt agreed, and he meant it. “I really hope you find her. I know if it was me, and I had the chance to find my Mom, I would do anything to get her back.”

“I know you would.” Quinn said, shooting him a small sad smile.

…

“This is ridiculous.” Blaine said, watching Kurt pack his bag from the doorway. Throughout the whole week, he had never come more than a few steps into Kurt's room.

“What is?” Kurt asked, feeling exhausted. All day, Blaine had been calling things ridiculous, pointless, a waste of time.

“Going to the family home.”

“Well, how are you going to _not_ take over the company if we don't actually go there to sort things out?”

“We _can't_ sort it out. I've already told you. Dad's already told you. It's in my grandfather's will and there's no way of changing it. This trip will be a waste of time.” His voice was flat.

Kurt didn't know exactly how they were going to sort this out, but he was sure that he _could_ sort it out. There had to be a way. There was always a way. Blaine needed to face his future sooner or later. The prospect of it was just making him feel uneasy.

“So this is the last time I'll be here?” Blaine asked abruptly, turning and walking toward the living room.

And then Kurt understood why the other man was so upset. He abandoned his half packed bag and made his way into the living room as well. Blaine was standing there, looking around at everything. It was obvious, watching the way the sadness curled over his entire frame. He didn't only have a problem with other people leaving him; he didn't like being the one to leave.

“You're moving on, Blaine. That's a good thing.”

Blaine nodded, not really believing it.

“Right now you're feeling?” Kurt prompted.

“Sentimental.”

Before Kurt could say anything else, Blaine's phone started ringing. He narrowed his eyes, not happy about the poor timing. They weren't just about to start talking.

“It's Sebastian.” Blaine said, handing it over right away.

Kurt stared at it. For a few seconds, he felt the overwhelming urge to hang up. But it melted quickly. He pushed the phone back into Blaine's palm.

“Answer it.” Kurt encouraged. “You could invite him to your birthday party. If you want to.”

“Are you sure?” Blaine asked.

“Of course.” Kurt said, a little confused by his hesitation. “Don't you want him to be there?”

The phone kept ringing.

“Well, yes, only...”

They stared at each other.

Kurt had no idea what Blaine could be thinking. He only know what he was thinking:

_Don't answer it, please don't answer it. Forget about Sebastian._

The phone went silent. Blaine didn't even look at it. He took a step closer to Kurt. There was a confused furrow in his brow. His lips parted.

The phone started ringing again, and Blaine froze.

He answered it and walked out of the room.

…

While Blaine waited in the car with Pat, Kurt made his way to Dave Karofsky's ward. He was more nervous than usual, checking for signs of Dave's wife. If he ran into her again, he wasn't sure that he could manage that level of anger directed toward him without crying. The only familiar face he ever came across in the hallways was Mercedes Jones though. She gasped at the sight of him and pulled him aside.

“I heard about what happened last time you were visiting Dave Karofsky.” She said. “I wanted to talk to you about it. I meant to do it when I saw you upstairs but then, well, Mr. Anderson can be difficult and I thought I might not be the right time.”

“That's okay.” Kurt said, a little confused.

“I'm sorry I wasn't on duty at the time. I had already been moved to the other ward. But I just want to tell you not to worry. Mrs. Karofsky was upset and she needed someone to blame. It's not your fault.”

“But I was the one who was meant to-”

“You're not responsible for what happened to Dave. And his wife agrees with me.” Mercedes said firmly. “The nurses told me what happened after you left. You may not have realized this, but Susan was really upset. She regretted yelling at you as soon as you left. Broke down completely. ”

Kurt nodded, trying to look normal and unaffected and like he wasn't about to cry.

“Did you talk to anyone yet?” She asked, and it was clear she meant someone professionally trained.

Kurt shook his head. Although Mercedes looked sad and vaguely disapproving, she left him alone, apologizing for keeping him so long. Kurt thanked her warmly, still blinking back the water in his eyes.

Alone now, he walked the rest of the way to Dave's private room.

“Hi,” He whispered, taking the seat beside the hospital bed. “It's me. Kurt. Kurt Hummel. The one who was meant to stop you from hurting yourself. I just couldn't stop thinking that maybe someone should have saved you from me.”

His voice broke. The machines beeped quietly in the background. Dave was still totally unmoving.

“I've been going over and over what I said to you that night, trying to figure out where I went wrong. I can't remember. I was just so relieved that you put the gun down, and I stopped thinking properly about what I said after that. I'm sorry if whatever it was made you feel like you weren't important; like your life wasn't worth living. Because it is. It is worth living. So if you can hear me, Dave Karofsky, then fight. Fight for your life. You have two beautiful daughters who need you. They have their whole lives ahead of them. They're going to want their father there for all of it. I-I know that because I grew up without a mother. And I know what it's like to have a shadow of a person hanging over every important moment of your life. Please don't leave that shadow over them. They will spend forever trying to imagine at every turn what you would say if you were there, what you would do, whether you would be proud...”

Kurt dabbed at his cheeks, trying to get rid of the tears that were now flowing thick and fast.

“Anyway, b-because I'd been feeling so guilty about you, I ended up doing something kind of impulsive. I met this guy on a bridge. He was about to jump. But I sort of stopped him. And now we're working together to try and make him aware of the beauty of life. If we can't- if we can't fix things, then I'm going to lose him.” Kurt took a shuddery breath. “We've only been doing this thing for a week. Only a _week._ And I've learned so much.”

Kurt looked down at his hands, where his fingers were twined together, clenching and unclenching as he went through his story. He thought about all the things that Blaine had taught him; from the simplicity of learning to laugh without holding back, to the complex acceptance of the fact that he may be struggling with some form of depression himself.

Then, all at once, something dawned on him; sudden, crushing, unshakable knowledge.

He had expected to feel relief when this happened. But instead his heart was pounding, his face flooding with color, and his muscles were suddenly feeling weak. He almost wanted some sort of response from Dave, like the comatose man might have somehow read his thoughts. But all he was met with was the sound of the life support machines in the background.

Perhaps the realization wasn't enough. Perhaps he had to say it out loud. He had to let the words out to actually feel better.

“I'm falling in love with Blaine.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

 

 

 “Is everything okay?” The most beautiful man in the world asked as Kurt climbed into the car.

Kurt nodded, trying to avoid eye contact. And, _god,_ did his heart always beat that fast? Blaine was frowning, studying his red eyes.

“You've been crying.” He said.

Kurt sniffed and didn't respond.

“How's Dave?”

“Same as ever.” Kurt cursed his voice for shaking.

“Did you see his wife again? Did she say something to you?” Blaine looked protective already. “Kurt, she has no right to do that. I keep telling you that this isn't your fault.”

“Not everyone will think that.”

“What?”

Pat discreetly turned on the radio to give them some privacy.

“Not everyone will think that.” Kurt repeated.

“What does that mean?” Blaine looked completely confused.

“Nothing.” He shook his head and turned away. “I'm being stupid.”

“Kurt, you can tell me anything.” Blaine said, and his damn golden eyes fixed Kurt in his place.

“I'm worried about what your family might think of me.” He admitted at last. “They'll hate me for this; for spending this whole time messing around when I could have been getting you proper help. If you- if you end up k-killing yourself-”

“They won't be mad at you for anything. I won't let them.”

“You won't be here to protect me in this scenario!” Kurt said. “You won't be able to defend me if you go. I will all be my word against theirs and- and- don't you see what kind of mess you'll leave behind?”

Blaine's phone started ringing before he could give any sort of response. He answered. The look on his face changed, and Kurt knew instantly what was going on.

Mr. Anderson had passed away.

…

Blaine didn't want to see his father's body at the hospital. He was now dedicated to returning to the family home and sorting out the funeral. Of course, Mr. Anderson, like Quinn's mother, already had most of the organization underway. That was what happened when someone was sick for so long before passing on. But Blaine knew there were still things he needed to do.

They drove on in the car, travelling the same way they had always planned, as if nothing had changed. But of course, everything had changed. He had lost his father. He was now, for all intents and purposes, the official head of Devon Anderson's.

“Does your brother know?” Kurt asked. Blaine's phone had remained in his pocket since the news, and he hadn't contacted anyone. With his quietness, and the way his arms folded so tight across his chest, it seemed like he was still in shock.

“Probably.”

“Have you checked your phone? Are you going to call him?”

“I'm sure he's been informed.”

“Will he come to the funeral?”

“I hope so.”

Kurt was relieved to hear a positive response.

“I hope the family gives him a really good thorough telling off. They should scream at him for being absent while I-” Blaine pressed his lips together.

Maybe not such a good response after all.

“This might mean your party won't go ahead.” Kurt said quietly, trying to find some silver lining in this whole situation. Blaine obviously needed one.

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed in response. “There's no way they can cancel the party now. It'll go full steam ahead to prove we're still standing strong even after losing Dad.”

“I see.” Kurt raked a hand through his hair. He hated feeling this helpless. “Is there anything I can do, Blaine?”

“No, thank you.” Still as polite as ever in the midst of grief, Blaine turned to stare stubbornly out of the window, ignoring the tears pouring down his cheeks.

Kurt wondered if Blaine even wanted him there. He felt so in the way, so intrusive. He had only met Mr. Anderson once, and he couldn't help thinking he was a spectator to the things everyone else was feeling with his passing. Of course, Kurt had to stay, regardless. He couldn't leave Blaine alone with his thoughts.

“Kurt,” Blaine's voice was so quiet he thought at first that he might be imagining it.

“Yes?”

“Will you sing at the funeral? Like you did for Mrs. Fabray?”

Kurt was astounded at the request. His heart was squeezing so tightly it might explode.

“Of course I will, Blaine.” He said, willing to do anything.

“The same song, okay?”

“The same song.” Kurt repeated.

Then Blaine did something strange. He reached out across the fancy interior of the car and his fingers closed around Kurt's, gripping tightly. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his body finally shaking with sobs.

Kurt brushed his thumb gently across the back of Blaine's hand, soft and repetitive, a careful reminder that Blaine was not alone.

They drove down through neighbourhoods that were becoming progressively more elaborate and stylish as they went. Eventually, they would arrive in an incredibly rich area worthy of the Devon Anderson family. These house owners were all the front runners of big businesses, and filled to the brim with family money.

Pat wasn't taking very much care on the road. He didn't pause before rounding corners. He took sharp lefts and rights and the vehicle swung around at the force of it.

Kurt looked over at Blaine, to see if he could read anything else on his face, like nerves or fear, which he was certainly full of. Blaine was already watching him.

“I was...” He cleared his throat, turning away. “Just wondering, weren't you wearing a broach before?”

“What?” Kurt asked. His hands flew up to the breast of his shirt, where that morning he had pinned on one of his favourite accessories. There was nothing there. “Shit.”

Clicking out of his seatbelt, he dropped onto the huge floor space inside the Rolls Royce, and began to fumble around, looking for it.

“Careful, Kurt!” Blaine said, and his hand landed on Kurt's shoulder just as Pat took another sharp turn and Kurt was tugged sharply against the car door.

“It was my mother's.” Kurt explained, sitting back on his haunches to rub the spot on his head.

Blaine winced. He clearly empathized with the pain of losing something like that.

It was obvious that there was nothing in the car. Kurt huffed and climbed back onto his seat, pulling the seat belt back into place over his chest. Blaine was very quiet for a while.

“How well do you remember her?” He asked at last, and Kurt looked up at him in surprise.

Kurt rarely spoke about his mother, and never with people he didn't trust. But this was Blaine, and Blaine was one of the few people he felt like he could share these things with.

“I remember so much of her.” Kurt closed his eyes. “I used to sit on the edge of the bath in her and Dad's en suite and watch her when she put on her makeup or brushed her hair. She was so beautiful. I- I can still see her standing there, exactly the same way each day. I can picture the curve of her back, her smile in the mirror. I can even smell her perfume.”

Kurt fingered the empty space where the broach had been.

“If she was going out with Dad for a date night, her hair would be curled back into a french braid. She wore the same summery blue dress, even in winter. When she was finished getting ready, she would bend down and hand me this broach. And I would clip it on for her.”

The car fell silent for a long time. Kurt still hadn't opened his eyes.

“I loved having that broach. When people complimented me on it, I could say 'thanks, it belonged to my mother'. It was a way of slipping her into everyday conversations. I could keep her as this _real_ part of my life. Then, even when I start forgetting what she looked like, and I have to look through albums to reconstruct her face in my mind again, I still have that sense that she's always been with me. And she always will be. It probably sounds weird...”

“It doesn't. It's not weird at all.” Blaine said softly, speaking for the first time, somehow able to tell that Kurt was finished.

“Do you remember your mother?” Kurt asked.

“Bits and pieces. Small things. I remember her cooking, and her hugs, and how tiny she looked next to my brother when he started growing. The problem was, I never had anyone to talk to about her, so I had to hold onto the few things I could all by myself.”

“Was there really no one to talk to?” It was still so hard for Kurt to wrap his head around it.

“We had a new nanny every summer, to take care of us when we weren't at school, but never time to get to know them. The gardener was the most regular figure in my life, and he never had time to stop and talk. Oh, and Pat and his wife, of course. They were probably the closest to adult role models I ever had.”

They let the conversation hang for a moment, both unsure how to keep going.

“Your broach will turn up.”

Kurt hoped Blaine was right.

“Did I tell you Sebastian said he would come to my birthday party?”

Kurt had forgotten to ask him after he came off the phone. How had he forgotten to ask something that important?

“That's great, Blaine. That's really... great.”

Blaine looked at him, eyes burning right into his soul.

“I'm glad you think it's great.” He said after a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah it really is....” Kurt let the sentence die, because he couldn't think of a single other word to end it with, apart from 'great'.

Finally, the car pulled to a stop. Kurt sat up properly, eager to see the place where Blaine had grown up. They had passed between grand pillars, through a gilded gate, and now they were parked right out the front of an enormous manor house.

“Shit, Blaine.” Kurt breathed, unable to help himself.

Blaine looked unimpressed.

“You grew up here?”

“I grew up in boarding school. I spent the holidays here.”

“Wasn't it exciting though, for a kid? Having so many places to explore?”

“Yeah, that was alright. But it was pretty lonely. Our nearest neighbours are far away and all surrounded by high walls. Not exactly approachable.” He suddenly grimaced. “Sorry. I sound like the most spoiled-”

“No you don't.” Kurt stopped him before he could belittle his own problems.

Pat opened their doors then, and the two of them climbed out onto the paving stones, Kurt craning his neck to look up at the house. As his gaze travelled down, the front door opened, and a friendly women stepped out, beaming at them and waving. Kurt could easily piece her together with the name he had already heard from Blaine. It must have been Maureen, Pat's wife. She had been the housekeeper here for thirty years. Longer than Blaine had been alive.

“Blaine,” She greeted. The moment she reached him she had pulled him into her arms. Kurt was sure beyond doubt, as he watched some of the stiffness in Blaine's muscles evaporate, that she had been the closest thing to a maternal figure he had ever had. “If there's anything I can do for you, please just ask.”

“Thanks.” Blaine said, sounding like he was swallowing tears. He gestured quickly to the side. “This is Kurt. He's staying with us for a few days.”

Maureen couldn't quite hide her sparkling eyes as she looked at Kurt, and then glanced toward Pat. It was clear that the couple had talked about him before, though what they had said, Kurt wasn't sure. She quickly masked the exchange by greeting him, and leading both of them into the house.

Even her warm friendly manner couldn't quite quench the awkwardness of organizing sleeping arrangements though. It was clear she didn't know whether to lead Kurt to Blaine's room, or put him in a place of his own. The house had ten bedrooms in total, and she showed them the way to the one she had prepared for Blaine rather tentatively, trying to work out what to do by attempting to catch Blaine's eye for guidance. As well as being weighed down with bags though, Blaine was lost in his own mind. He wasn't paying much attention to his two companions.

Kurt guessed that he had left the week before, expecting to return engaged, happy, and with Sebastian at his side. Now he was faced with the upsidedown life he had been left with instead.

Kurt had been worried about their deal all week, but that concern was only swelling to new heights at the sight of Blaine right now. He seemed detached, cold, overwhelmed. Kurt could imagine how Sebastian felt when they were dating, trying to reach out beyond this wall of stone.

This was the hardest side of Blaine to approach. He had reverted deeply into his own profound unhappiness. He was the little boy who had lost his mother and grown up with only paid staff to replace the people who should have loved him. He was the young man who had found his passion in life and been forced to do something else instead. He was the forlorn child, abandoned by his older brother, scorned by his father. He was the hopelessly in love, left by the person he wanted to marry. He was the man so tied to his duty he had to room to move. He was being sucked back, deeper and deeper, inside his own head, where Kurt didn't know how to reach him.

It was one thing to help someone who wanted to be helped, which Kurt had begun to think applied to Blaine. But here, in his childhood home, he had already closed the door on any desire to get better. He detached from his body completely and floated away.

Kurt stood on the ground and looked for a way to bring him back.

…

Blaine spent most of the day sleeping. He retreated to his bedroom, closed all of the curtains, fumbled through changing into his pajamas, and clambered into bed.

Kurt was sitting in the same room, though he would be sleeping next door later on. He found himself looking out between the curtains at the horse grazing the field outside. His legs were tucked up under himself, a thick blanket across his lap. It was cold, perhaps even colder than the day he had jumped into the pond to get Blaine a lily pad. The faintest rain pattered the window pane as he pressed his cheek against it. Even the horse was wearing a coat today.

Kurt glanced over his shoulder to check the clock. He was conscious, very conscious, of the time. Though time was usually a great healer, he knew that he couldn't rely on it to help with this problem. They should be talking, planning, fixing things as quickly as they could.

Kurt stood up and walked to the bed, needing to be closer. Blaine was definitely still asleep. He whole body was curled into a tight little ball, his arms wrapped around the pillow and hugging it closer to his chest. His dark curls were free from gel now, spread across his forehead.

Kurt reached out a hand and brushed Blaine's hair aside. When he didn't stir or wake, Kurt couldn't help lingering a little longer. His eyes fell to Blaine's lips, which were pursed the way they did when he was concentrating. It made Kurt smile.

Maureen knocked against the open door behind them and Kurt jumped back, as if caught doing something wrong. He wondered how long she had been standing there. She smiled in a way that suggested she hadn't missed his tenderness with Blaine.

“Sorry to disturb you. I thought I would pop in to tell you that I've finished making up the bed next door.”

“Thank you.” Kurt said, trying his best to give her a carefree smile. He could tell there was something more that Maureen wanted to ask, but so far she was holding back.

“There's also been a phone call for Blaine.” She said.

“He's sleeping now, but you could tell him later? If it's not urgent.”

“It was Sebastian.”

“Oh,”

“He tried to reach Blaine's mobile, but no one answered it. He wanted to know if he could come to the funeral. He said they had a few problems recently and he wasn't sure if Blaine would even want him there.”

“Oh,” Kurt said again. He looked at the figure on the bed behind him and tried to work out what Blaine would want. The Blaine he had seen that whole week would have wanted Sebastian there. But this Blaine? This Blaine was not the Blaine that Sebastian had fallen in love with. This was the Blaine that had driven him away.

Kurt would have to double-check with him later when he woke, but he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be.

“I think that it would be best if Sebastian stayed away for a while. Please tell him that Blaine's isn't angry though. He just isn't ready to see him yet.”

“I'll tell him.” Maureen promised. She took one more look at Blaine and then nodded firmly to herself, leaving the room.

Kurt waited for a beat before following her out.

“Maureen...” He called, pushing his hair back. “We're not together. Blaine and I. I just want you to know that. He's just- I'm just here to take care of him.”

Maureen nodded, like she understood.

“He wouldn't appreciate me saying something like this, but I know that you were the closest thing to a mother he ever had, and you've certainly known him longer than me. I don't know what he's usually like. I only know that he seemed to be getting better until we arrived here. This has set him back a bit. It's never a good time to lose someone-”

“Have you met Mr. Anderson?”

“Once, yes.”

“Then you must understand that I mean no disrespect when I say this, but even after working thirty years for him, we were never close.”

“He was never exactly close with his son either.” Kurt said. Maureen pursed her lips and nodded.

“I'm sure you won't spread this around, Kurt, so I'm going to tell you something.” She said carefully. “Blaine has always been a very sensitive person, from a very young age. And he was always very hard on himself when he couldn't get things right. I tried to be there for him, especially after we lost his dear mother, but it was difficult. He didn't like letting people in. Doesn't want to worry them. And Mr. Anderson, well, he was Mr. Anderson. You just need to understand that Blaine isn't used to opening up. He won't tell you how he's feeling in words first. He'll express it through actions before ever admitting it out loud.”

“I understand.” Kurt said. “Thank you for the insight. I've noticed some of it but... Thank you. It's always good to know more, and especially to have more people involved. I haven't been able to take my eyes off him all week.”

“A lot of people find that hard.” Maureen said, and Kurt felt himself blush tellingly.

“Yeah, well,” Kurt tried to gather his thoughts again. “I really do need to go and do something now, so I was hoping you could keep an eye on him for me. He doesn't seem like he's going anywhere. I won't be away longer than an hour.”

Maureen agreed easily, and said she would find a chair and sit outside the door while she worked on some paperwork.

“Please call me if he wakes up, even just to go to the bathroom. _Anything_.” Kurt cast a worried glance back toward Blaine's bedroom.

“It'll be fine.” Maureen gave his arm a pat.

“Okay.”

“He was right. Sebastian.” She clarified after seeing Kurt's confused look. “He asked me if there was another man here with Blaine. Someone handsome who was taking really good care of him.”

“He said that?” Kurt asked.

“He did.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him he would have to discuss Blaine's business with Blaine.”

Kurt managed a weak smile.

“Thank you.”

…

Kurt found Pat in the servants kitchen (and god it felt weird to be in a house with an area set aside for servants), tucking into an egg sandwich. Though he was already dreading the drive and just wanted it over and done with, he waited politely until Pat was finished eating before he spoke.

“Sure.” Pat agreed to his request. “Let me grab the car keys.”

It wasn't long before they were in the Rolls Royce again. Kurt felt awkward in the back by himself. He still wasn't used to travelling with a chauffeur. He was thankful, however, that Pat had known how to get him where he needed to go.

Tina Cohen Chang lived on a rather sizeable property that wasn't quite as grand as the Andersons, but clearly owned by someone collecting a high salary. Upon arriving, Pat pointed him in the direction of the stables. Kurt approached the big building in awe, unable to believe that someone here in Ohio actually owned such a grand place.

Kurt walked through the stables without meeting anyone. On the other side, he found a large paddock in which and elegant woman was directing a horse through several obstacles. Glad to have found Tina, he leaned against the railings and watched her.

“That's Lady Meadows.” A voice said behind him, and Kurt whirled around in surprise.

It was Tina. She was wearing riding gear and holding a brush full of horse hair.

“I thought I was watching you.” He said, explaining the shock he felt seeing her.

“Me? No way.” Tina laughed. “Horse riding is just a hobby for me. I keep this place running with what I earn from the business, but plenty of other riders pay me a little to keep their horses here, and they come and practice all the time. I'm certainly not on the same level as most of them.”

“Oh,” Kurt said. “So is Lady Meadows the horse or the person?”

“The horse.” Tina said with another laugh.

“This is a really cool set up.” Kurt told her honestly. “Is this something you want to end up doing full time?”

“No, this was never more than a casual pastime.” Tina said. “Why? Have you been sent from Devon Anderson's to fire me?”

She tried very hard to seem like she was only joking, but Kurt did not miss the obvious fear in her eyes.

“Actually, quite the opposite.” He said.

Tina looked intrigued.

…

They finished their conversation in a small lunchroom off to the side of the stables. It was cold inside, due to the many people using the stables flowing in and out almost constantly, so they both had to keep their coats on. Kurt cradled the cup of coffee he'd been given as he took a seat on the couch that, prior to their appearance in the room, had been full of three dogs. One ended up sleeping at Kurt's feet, the other paced the room, and the last sat neatly on Tina's lap and didn't take it's eyes off Kurt the entire time.

Tina didn't seem to notice the cold, or even the dogs. She was a little dubious upon hearing all of Kurt's plan, but she couldn't hide her obvious interest for a second.

“And you worked this all out with Blaine?” She asked.

“Pretty much.” Kurt said. “He couldn't be here because he's staying at the house to help sort out the funeral and things, but I know he wanted a solution to all of this, and he was certainly aware of some of my planning.”

“He's happy with this solution though?” Tina's brow was furrowed. “With not having a day to day role in the company? With me making the decisions?”

“Absolutely. The last thing he wants is any sort of involvement with the responsibility of taking charge. But this way, he can still stay on as Chairman and technically own the place, yet leave the company in your hands for the most part. You'll run big decisions past him of course, but he won't feel the pressure of a full-time job he never wanted. Everyone I've talked to seems to have absolute faith that you were the one person Mr. Anderson trusted to do things right anyway. And it's pretty clear that you love Devon Anderson's.”

“It was my first job after school.” Tina confessed, smiling. “I spent the first year answering phones and then they slowly moved me up. If you'd told me back then how much creative freedom I could get from managing a chocolate company, I would have laughed in your face. I really do love my job. But...”

“What's wrong?” Kurt asked. He felt his heart sinking each time she expressed further hesitance.

“Mr. Anderson wouldn't have wanted this. The whole family won't want it either. Some of them would rather die than see me in the top spot. They like keeping things very much in the family, the Andersons do.” She never directly insulted them, but it was clear from her tone of voice that she had noticed the overbearing nature of Blaine's family. She saw the pressure on him.

“As long as his Uncle's side isn't involved, right?”

“Yes, his cousin Nigel can never take over.” Tina suddenly looked worried. “It won't be going to Nigel if this plan doesn't work out, will it?”

“That's the last thing Blaine wants.” He reassured her. “And Tina, if Blaine's behind you then what can the family really do about it?”

“Are you _sure_ Blaine is happy with this?” she asked again, still looking so confused.

“I'm pretty sure. He's been asking me to find a solution for a long time. I thought it was clear to everyone that he didn't want the job?”

“Well I did get that impression, of course. I just always thought he was nervous because of his Dad more than anything. It's a really good job most of the time, after all. Blaine's come up with a ton of really creative and surprising ideas over the years when he does get involved with us.” Tina shrugged. “Mr. Anderson was always very intimidating for him though, breathing down his neck, barely giving him a second to think and getting mad at him for not thinking fast enough. That's where I always suspected the problem lay. I wondered if, now that his father was gone, Blaine might change his mind about running Devon Anderson's.”

Kurt felt like he was muddled now as well. Before he could say anything, his phone rang. It was Maureen.

“He's awake.”

…

Kurt didn't need to tell Pat to be as fast as he could. The car was already going way faster than he ever would have driven it, rocketing down the quiet roads toward the manor again. As soon as they pulled to a stop, Kurt hurtled out of the car and sprinted up toward Blaine's bedroom. He found a very flush faced Maureen standing right outside.

“Slide the keys under the door.” Blaine's voice was muffled, but frustrated, coming from the other side. It took Kurt a second to realize she had locked him in.

“I'm not sure they would fit.” She said nervously.

“Maureen, what's going on?” Kurt asked, announcing his presence for the first time.

“Thank god you're here.” She said, whirling to face him. “Blaine was hungry when he woke up, so I brought him some lunch, and then he kept on saying he wanted to go for a walk! I had to lock him in.”

“Why didn't you let him go for a walk?” Kurt asked.

“I couldn't let him out of my sight!”

“You could have followed him!”

Maureen clamped her hands over her mouth. She obviously hadn't even considered that option.

“He's very angry.” She whispered.

“That's okay. He'll just take it out on me.” Kurt said, before raising his voice a little. “Blaine, I'm back! I'm going to unlock the door, okay?”

He put the key in the lock, but Blaine started rattling the door handle on the other side, with a furious kind of energy that made it difficult for Kurt to actually unlock it properly.

“Blaine, just wait one second. I'm trying to-”

The key turned and the door swung open. Kurt had no time to move out of the way. As Blaine stormed straight past them, he accidentally clipped Kurt's shoulder with his own.

Kurt barely felt it. He ran right down the stairs after Blaine. He could practically feel the heat of his anger flowing like waves in his wake.

“I want to be alone.” Blaine said, already speed-walking toward a small forested area at the back of the property.

Kurt was very glad that his legs were longer than Blaine's, or he never would have caught up with so little effort. It took him several quick steps and then they were side by side.

“You know I can't let that happen.” Kurt said firmly. “I have to stay with you.”

Blaine's pace picked up, and he matched it.

“Not now, okay?” Blaine growled.

Kurt remained right there at his side, with him step by step. He couldn't give up now, he couldn't leave him when he was so upset. He couldn't-

“ _Kurt!_ ” Blaine yelled suddenly, screeching to a halt and screaming the words almost directly into Kurt's face. His eyes were scorching. “ _GO AWAY!”_

His voice echoed around the trees they were standing in. It vibrated through Kurt's bones, made his heart leap into a breakneck speed. The flash of pure rage that passed across Blaine's face scared him. His breath caught, and he held it. He felt like a kid, being yelled at by his father; all at once frightened,embarrassed, and vulnerable.

Something flickered in Blaine's eyes. His jaw shifted as he ground his teeth, and then he spun away. He charged off into the trees.

Kurt stumbled back against the nearest tree and sank to his knees, tears already blurring his vision. He bent in on himself, the rough bark supporting his back, and for once, he let himself cry until he couldn't continue.

He let Blaine go.

 


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

Kurt felt an odd sort of calm as he sat there and the sun slid lazily across the sky. He had moved now to the edge of the trees, off to the side of the path, and his breathing was back to normal as well. He sniffed and his nose ran, forcing him to dab at it awkwardly with the back of his hand. He hadn't bothered wiping his tears off for a while, and now the occasional one trickled down to the corner of his mouth, where he would lick it away, tasting the salt.

He was pretty sure it was his strange helplessness that made him feel so peaceful. He was hanging in a limbo, waiting to find out if the man he was falling in love with after only a week was going to stay alive, or die by his own hand.

Footsteps crunched on the path between the trees, and Kurt's heart pounded. He was terrified that this was the end. This was Pat or Maureen coming with the news that they had found Blaine's body somewhere. This might even be a policeman, ready to arrest him. Could that happen? Was a failure to help a friend considered aiding and abetting a suicide?

How long had Kurt been sitting out here?

The footsteps stopped, and Blaine sunk down to his knees at Kurt's side.

Kurt bit his lip in the hopes that he could ward of the fresh sobs he could feel bubbling up inside, but he knew he would fail, so he turned his head away and let them come.

Blaine cleared his throat, but he didn't speak for another moment. It felt like the perfect remedy in that moment, just sitting together with the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind surrounding them.

“I'm sorry.” Blaine said after some time had passed. In the stillness, his voice felt loud and his declaration sudden.

“Where did you go?” Kurt asked, not ready to forgive him yet.

“To let off some steam. I took a jog around the woods and scared off a few birds. I- I made one of them crap itself.”

Kurt couldn't help it. A small giggle tumbled from his mouth.

“That's better.” Blaine's voice was so soft. “I hate seeing you so upset.”

He reached out a trembling hand and wiped a stray tear from Kurt's cheek. Kurt closed his eyes and another one fell.

“Hey,” Blaine said, shuffling closer and putting his arm around Kurt's shoulders.

Kurt decided not to speak, but he melted into the touch. He didn't know how Blaine had sensed the exact moment when he wanted to be held. He rested his head on Blaine's shoulder. With the lightest touch, Blaine pressed his lips into Kurt's hair.

“I'm never myself when I'm here. I turn messy... angry. I become someone else. Of course it isn't an excuse for how I treated you. Especially when you were only trying to help me. But I want you to know how sorry I am.”

“I accept your apology.” Kurt said, and his voice didn't shake. “Can I ask what made you so angry in the first place?”

“I was upset because you promised you wouldn't tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?”

“About last Sunday night.”

“Blaine, I didn't tell anyone.” Kurt said.

“Kurt, please don't lie. Please don't. Not you. The rest of the world can lie to me but not _you_.” Blaine sounded shattered all of a sudden.

“I'm not lying to you. I haven't done that before, and I'm not starting now.” Kurt pulled back enough to look Blaine in the eye, face to face. “I told Maureen to tell Sebastian not to come to the funeral. I thought it would be best if you didn't talk in person yet.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.”

“I know, but it's the only thing that I haven't told you yet. Plus the bigger thing that I'm just about to tell you. But apart from those two things, I haven't done anything else. I would never tell anyone how we met unless I knew you were okay with it.”

“What are you about to tell me?” Blaine asked.

“I'll tell you later. It's not important right now. Just something about the company I looked at this afternoon.”

Blaine frowned.

“Who do you think I told?” Kurt couldn't help asking.

“Maureen.”

“I didn't tell her.”

“She _locked_ me in a room.” Blaine said incredulously.

“She panicked.” Kurt said, wincing. “I just asked her to keep an eye on you. I said I was here to take care of you and I needed her help for a while. That's all I said.”

“What the hell, Kurt?”

“What? That's not telling her.”

“It's letting her know that there's something wrong though.” Blaine sounded almost desperate, like he couldn't stand the idea of people knowing he wasn't one hundred percent okay all of the time.

“Blaine, do you honestly think there's a single person who knows you that hasn't realized something's going on?”

Blaine looked away. He shook his head, but it was too fast, like he was trying to deny something he already knew was true.

“What's the other thing you were going to tell me?”

“I went to see Tina today.”

“Tina Cohen Chang?”

“Yes. I had a proposal for her. A solution to your problem, maybe. I had to check with her to see if she thought it might work.” Kurt glanced at Blaine to find him listening intently. “I figured that we could make you the Chairman of Devon Anderson's. Officially, you'll be in control of the company and the way it works. That fulfills what's in your grandad's will. You can also keep an eye on the more important decisions, and you'll have to sign off on things from time to time. But Tina could step up as Managing Director. She would be the one going into the office every day, taking care of the intricacies, continuing your Dad's work.”

Blaine took in all of the information with a very serious expression on his face.

“That way,” Kurt continued. “You could take up a teaching job again and do what you love without having to let go of the company. And with Tina in charge, you can be sure it's in good hands.”

“So I'd be on the board at Devon Anderson's but keep up another job at the same time?”

“Like Batman.” Kurt said.

“Well, I have no parents and a lot of money, so that sort of works.” Blaine said, a smile flickering across his own face as he made a joke for the first time in too long. Kurt chuckled, and then let things slip into silence again. At his side, Blaine was considering every angle.

“Don't go overboard with happiness.” Kurt said finally. He was puzzled by the look in Blaine's eye. He had presented a solution to his problem, and yet here Blaine was, still full of that inner turmoil. “Does this not solve the problem?”

“It does, absolutely.” Blaine managed a smile. “Thank you.”

Usually, Kurt was used to pushing stubbornly against an issue until he found a way to solve it, but he decided now was one of those times when he would have to wait. Blaine needed to sort out his own opinions before Kurt could understand him.

“Let's play a game.” He said.

“You are your games.” Blaine groaned, mostly kidding.

“Tell me one thing you do when no one's looking.” Kurt said. He saw the smirk rising on Blaine's face and quickly backtracked. “And don't be disgusting.”

“Well if I'm not allowed to be disgusting then the answer is nothing.” Blaine said.

“I mean something more along the lines of talking to yourself, or singing in the shower.”

“Where is this going?”

“Just answer.”

“I do both of those things. Especially sing in the shower.” Blaine said. “Only not so much recently.”

“So do I.” Kurt smiled. “And another thing I do is this game I play when I'm bored, usually in a waiting room or something. I pick a color and then look all around the room and count how many things there are that are that color. Then I pick another one and count again. The color with the most things is the winner.”

“Why on earth do you do that?” Blaine snorted, looking delighted none the less.

“Who knows?” Kurt said. “People do weird things all the time, but never admit it. I also have a thing I do where I rearrange things on the table in front of me. Doesn't matter where I am or anything. I just arrange them into a neater order while I'm sitting there.”

Blaine laughed and shook his head.

“Or I try to come up with ideas for outfits I could design.”

“Do you do that a lot? Design?” Blaine asked, suddenly more interested.

“From time to time. I've always wanted to actually go about creating clothing for other people, maybe even trying to get a proper design job.” He pulled his knees up under his chin, suddenly self conscious. “It's just this silly dream I've always had.”

“It's not silly.” Blaine said, and Kurt was sure he would never get tired of the way both of them so easily reassured each other. “You're really amazing, Kurt. You could actually do that, you know?”

Kurt felt his cheeks slowly reddening again. He smiled.

“Now, are you going to answer my question?”

“I like to rhyme things.” Blaine said.

“Aha! Tell me more.”

“Not just small words, but,” He ducked his head shyly. “I can't believe I'm telling you this. Sebastian doesn't even know this.”

Kurt tried not to smile visibly at this news.

“Not things like 'fat' and 'cat' but complicated things like... 'deciduous'. That immediately makes me think of 'fastidious'.”

“Oh my god, you're such a _nerd_.” Kurt threw him a look.

“Hey!”

“I'm joking.” He laughed. “That's actually really cool.”

“It's not _cool_.” Blaine said with certainty.

“The secrets of the human mind are very cool.” Kurt insisted.

“Is that meant to be my takeaway from this? That the human mind is a cool place?”

Kurt shrugged. He looked up at the house and chewed his lower lip for a moment.

“We should play another game.”

“How about 'Never Have I Ever'?” Blaine suggested, and then scoffed at himself. “This feels remarkably like one of those 'How to Fall in Love' classes that Brittany goes to with her wife.”

“Well maybe I do want you to fall in love.” Kurt said. Blaine's eyes flew up to meet his, searing and intense. He felt the need to clarify. “With life. I want you to fall in love with life.”

“Okay.” Blaine drummed his fingers against his leg as he thought about it. “Never have I ever... eaten a lollipop.”

“What?” Kurt exploded. “Explain!”

“We couldn't have candy as kids unless it was chocolate.” Blaine said, laughing at Kurt's reaction. “We had so much chocolate around anyway, what with sample packs from the company coming in and out. No reason to buy anything else. And then I got to boarding school and I was just... never interested in trying one. They look so gross, all covered in saliva, just going in and out of someone's mouth. Disgusting.”

Kurt laughed as well.

“Fair enough.” he said.

“Now it's your turn.”

“Okay.” Kurt thought for a moment. He had something equally shocking he could say, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. He swallowed. “Never have I ever been in love.”

It was Blaine's turn to gape at him now.

“What about your boyfriend?” He asked after getting over the initial surprise.

“That wasn't love.” Kurt said. “I thought it was at first, but now I'm pretty sure it wasn't.”

“How come?”

Kurt looked at Blaine, and in his head he said “ _Because it felt nothing like this._ ”

Out loud, he shrugged and gave a different answer entirely.

“I don't know.” He paused. “Blaine, do you think you can be in love with someone if they don’t love you back?”

“The answer is sort of in the question, isn't it?”

“Yeah, but I was just wondering because some people think that if love isn't reciprocated then it somehow lessens it. Does it really count as the full thing if it's one sided?”

Blaine thought about it. He really properly considered it. Kurt waited for a long answer, one that would reflect all the consideration that had gone into it. He was sure Blaine was thinking about Sebastian, and how he loved him still even if Sebastian had cheated on him.

“Yes.” Blaine said at last. “It counts.”

Kurt nodded, absorbing the answer.

“Kurt, why are we talking about this?”

Kurt really didn't know. He could barely remember how they had reached this conversation.

“I don't know.” He shivered. “Come on, let's go back inside.”

…

Since it was Blaine's house, Kurt asked to be shown around. He wanted to get an idea of what his life had been like as a child, and what it would be like if Blaine ended up having to move back in. He especially wanted to know why the house freaked Blaine out so much that he felt like he became a different person when he was inside.

They walked a winding route around every single room in the house. Blaine offered glimpses of his childhood in certain spots; smiling fondly at the door to his brother's room and rolling his eyes at the posters on the walls, spinning a picture of how his mother used to dance around the kitchen with him, tracing the path their childhood dog used to take up the stairs every morning.

The last place Blaine led him to was the garage, and Kurt was not disappointed. If he had freaked out about being in a car as expensive and luxury as the Rolls Royce, it was nothing compared to the sheer elegant class of the sports cars inside that gigantic garage. He squealed over them for longer than was probably appropriate, and took many more photos to send to his father. Then Blaine lead him out to one of the cars and they took the twenty minute drive to Devon Anderson’s main factory.

“I once had the idea that we should do tours inside here, like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I thought letting the public in to see would be good for business. Dad wasn't so keen. He was always suspicious of competition coming to steal our secrets.” Blaine sounded thoughtful as he led Kurt through the doors.

“What other ideas did you have?” Kurt asked. Tina had complimented Blaine's creativity, and he was curious to hear what sort of things had made her admire him as a potential leader of the company.

“A sort of theme park.”

“Like Disneyworld?” Kurt asked.

“Not that elaborate. I thought maybe a petting zoo, playgrounds, a restaurant, that kind of thing. I'm sure it's been done before and I thought it would be a great way to get the public excited.”

“What did your Dad say?” Kurt asked, stepping into an elevator beside Blaine.

Blaine grimaced and didn't respond.

Kurt was starting to understand what Tina meant now. Blaine did seem like some parts of what the company did actually excite him. But he had obviously been shut down by his father time and time again. That was bound to wear down on a person.

The elevator let out a soft ding as it reached the top floor, and the door opened to a long table in the centre of a board room. Kurt and Blaine both gasped at the sight of the man inside.

He was tall, handsome, and bouncing on the balls of his feet like a puppy.

“Cooper?” Blaine said, stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Squirt!” Cooper called, bounding over and enveloping Blaine in his arms, ruffling his hair mercilessly despite the fact that he was a fully grown adult. “Good to see you.”

He let Blaine go and his million watt smile dropped for a moment. The lightness in the room seemed to dim along with his mood. He gave Blaine’s shoulder a squeeze.

“It's a pity about Dad.” He said.

“Yeah, it is.” Blaine agreed.

Kurt could see that Cooper had tears in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away and plastered that grin back onto his face again.

“What are you doing here?” Blaine asked.

“I'm running the company!” Cooper announced. “What else would I be doing here?”

“You're filming a movie.” Blaine scrunched up his nose. “You can't run the company.”

“Well I have some time off for Dad's funeral and then when we finish filming I'm going to be moving back, so I came here to check things out first.” He tilted his head. “Why does it matter?”

“Because Dad already put me in charge.”

“But you hate the company. And everyone knows that Dad wanted me in charge anyway.” Cooper seemed to think this would be no problem, but Kurt was watching Blaine, and he saw something interesting filling his expression.

“He was leaving the job to me.”

“Blaine, don't get upset. I'm helping you out here. You can toddle back to teaching, which I know you love, and I can take care of this for the required ten years. Everyone knows you don't want anything to do with the company.”

Blaine looked at Cooper angrily.

“That's where you're wrong.” He spat.

And then Kurt felt the balance tilt. The side of Blaine that had been teetering between two things finally made up its mind. Everything clicked into place.

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

 

 

The world and its mother had all turned out for Dick Anderson's funeral. Not because he was a popular man, which he certainly had never been, but because of what he had brought to the community, to the family, and even to the country. With a factory employing more than eight hundred people, there were so many employees now worried about their jobs. They sat in the back rows, having to strain to see the front.

And with such a huge company tied in with Mr. Anderson's death, there were many people waiting to butter up its new leader; important people, wearing suits and forced sadness, filling up rows nearer the front.

Every face in the congregation kept directing glances toward Blaine and Cooper, the children who stood at the very front and kept their own eyes fixed on their father's grave. These two young men didn't necessarily seem like the most trustworthy of heirs to many in the crowd. Each funeral attendee held the concern that whichever one of them took over, they might not share their father's values. They might not be so keen to keep the company maintained within the smallest circle possible. They might, even worse, try to sell it off.

Kurt felt awkward, standing at Blaine's side. He didn't belong here.

He had sang his song before the actual burial began. In the front row, Blaine had been weeping openly, but never shifting his gaze away from Kurt. Cooper, Pat, Tina, and Maureen, the only familiar faces in the audience, had looked almost equally moved. The people in the very back, the more humble members of the crowd, the ordinary workers in the factor who had known Mr. Anderson as a very loyal employer, seemed upset as well.

But other than that, most people hadn't seemed to care. None of them shed even a single tear. After all, they weren't here for Mr. Anderson. They were here for the company. For the legacy.

Mr. Anderson wasn't a popular man.

...

The coffin was lowered carefully into the ground. At Kurt's side, he felt Blaine tensing. His shoulders started to shake and he lifted a hand to cover his face. Kurt automatically reached out for his free hand, wanting to comfort him. Blaine looked at him in surprise, and Kurt's heart jumped with the shock of seeing his expression. His eyes were wet, but he wasn't crying. He was grinning from ear to ear, his hand reaching up to try and cover the smile.

Kurt tilted his head very deliberately, trying to warn Blaine to stop. Someone was bound to see. But knowing this only made Kurt want to laugh too. It was probably the number one inappropriate time to have the urge to giggle, with Blaine's father being lowered into the ground, but for some reason it was suddenly almost impossible not to.

He forced himself to look away, biting his lip with the effort not to crack up as well.

…

“What was that about?” Kurt asked later, as the crowd began to disperse and they were free to make their way between the well-wishers to the car.

“I'm sorry.” Blaine said as they climbed inside to wait for Pat. “It was just a thought that popped into my head.”

He was smiling again, mirth sparking under the surface, visible in his eyes.

“I'm glad you're smiling. I'm just a little confused as to why?”

“I _am_ sad about Dad dying, Kurt. I want you to know that. But I realized something else today. Just because Dad is dead now, it doesn't mean that I have to stop functioning the same way I used to. It doesn't mean I can never be happy again.”

Kurt felt his heart swell. He was very proud of Blaine's new attitude.

“So are you going to tell me what made you laugh?” He asked.

“I was trying to remember things about him. I was trying to recall my favorite moments; things we shared together. It's kind of a big deal seeing your father lowered into the ground like that, and realizing that you're never going to see him again.” He laughed. “But all I could think about was the last time I spoke to him, when we went to visit him in the hospital.”

“I remember.” Kurt said, unsure why it was so funny. “I was there.”

“Yeah, but after the fight, when security took everyone else out of the room, Dad talked to me one more time. I wanted to make sure he knew that I had never made any sort of deal with Nigel. And he believed me. He looked pretty shaken, but he believed me. And then- and then he said 'I don't know if I like your new friend. He's kind of a bitch. No respect.' and- and- and then when I didn't reply he said 'I've never met someone like him before. If you end up marrying that guy I swear...'”

His laughter squeaked out of him and he doubled over, clutching his tummy, unable to finish.

“And so I left.” He said at last, face split in half with his smile. “Those were his last words to me.”

And he doubled over again.

The longer Kurt didn't laugh, the harder Blaine's laughter became. His hysterics grew louder and louder, more and more contagious, until Kurt found himself breaking down as well. Pat climbed into the front seat, took one look at them, and rolled his eyes.

While Kurt and Blaine laughed themselves breathless in the back seat, he drove the car ten times around and around the Anderson manor house, waiting until they could compose themselves. By the time they climbed out, and went inside for the post-funeral afternoon tea, Blaine's eyes were so red and raw that he seemed like he had been crying.


	22. Chapter 22

 

 

Blaine said he'd always called it the Bad News Room when he was growing up, and the name still stuck with him. The wood panelled parlour was full of awful memories. It was the place where his mother first found out that she had cancer, the place Blaine's father told him he was going to boarding school, the place Mr. Anderson was informed of his own terminal illness, and now the location for the reading of the will.

Kurt sat ramrod straight on the couch, still totally uncomfortable about being present for so many important family events that he really wasn't meant to be a part of. However, Blaine had insisted that he be there, and there was wasn't much else he could have done.

Kurt still wasn't sure what Blaine wanted to hear when the contents of the will were actually read aloud. All this time, he had assumed that becoming CEO of Devon Anderson's was the last thing that Blaine ever wanted, and now he wasn't so sure that was true. It was as if the moment Blaine had laid eyes on his brother, flicking lazily through those files in the office before declaring he would take the job, Blaine had realized that he cared.

“I should leave.” Kurt whispered to Blaine.

“You're staying.” He said, not even bothering to whisper. Everyone in the room looked at them. Cooper flashed Kurt one of those blinding smiles of his.

He sat down. But he still couldn't relax.

Arthur May, the lawyer, cleared his throat. He was at least sixty years old, his grey hair slicked with gel and his beard pointed and shaped like a knife's edge. Apparently, he had attended college at the same time and place as Dick Anderson, despite being years apart in age, and was one of the very few people that the recently deceased actually trusted.

He began to read the will, voice crisp, clear, and authoritative. His tone left no room for argument. When he reached the part that everyone really cared about, the tension in the room was thick enough to choke someone.

“In accordance with the wishes of Richard Devon Anderson, and in compliance with the last will and testament of John Devon Anderson, his late father, Blaine Devon Anderson is to take control of Devon Anderson's Chocolates and become its CEO.”

“Woah, seriously?” Cooper exclaimed. He looked astounded, but he got over it pretty quickly, turning to give his brother a movie-star-smile. “Congrats little brother.”

“ Thanks Coop.” Blaine said.

He looked totally calm, if a little surprised. It was almost as if a giant weight had just been taken off his shoulders. He no longer had that constant uncertainty hanging over him. He knew that he had been chosen as the heir to the company.

“Are you going to take it? Because if you still don't want it we can work something out.” Cooper offered carefully, studying Blaine's face. “I came back here to make sure you know that I wouldn't mind doing it if you were really against it.”

“You'd be bored out of your mind as CEO.”

“Yeah maybe, but you're my little brother. I would do it for you.” Cooper's words were sincere. “And I've already made plenty of movies. Not like Hollywood wouldn't take me back in ten years.”

“I'll think on it, Coop. But I've got this. I probably won't need your help. You already have the career you want. Don't give that up for me. You're too impulsive. I know you'd regret it.” Blaine smiled at his brother, and there was so much surety on his handsome face.

“You're probably right.” Cooper finally agreed, and he looked relieved as he sat back in his seat.

“May I continue now?” Arthur said, very patient. There was a twinkle in his eye as if he knew the two young men intimately and he had expected this.

Blaine and Cooper instantly fell silent and nodded for him to keep going. Kurt didn't miss the fond look Blaine shot at his brother. There was enough awe in his eyes to show that he'd never realized before this moment that Cooper loved him; loved him enough to give up his dreams for him.

And Kurt thought that the two of them were alike in more ways than they were aware of, both showing how deeply they felt through their actions before they did it in words.

With the knowledge of Cooper's love, and his father's blessing, and his new desire to try taking up this job, Blaine looked incredible. He barely resembled the man who had been silenced in his father's presence, or retreated into his shell the moment they pulled up outside his childhood home. He radiated a sudden inexplicable certainty.

…

“Thank you for that, Arthur.” Blaine said at the end of the reading. Cooper had vanished only seconds earlier to go and greet the relatives he hadn't seen in months. He was certain they would be clamouring for his autograph.

“Not a problem.” Arthur said, packing up his briefcase. “I quite enjoyed myself.”

Blaine's phone started ringing. He looked worriedly at the screen and took the call, stepping off into the corner of the room to speak with whoever was on the other end. As soon as he was engaged in the conversation, Arthur leaned across toward Kurt.

“I don't know what you're doing with that man, but I hope you never leave his side. I haven't seen him looking so self-assured in a long time. It suits him.”

Kurt smiled, proud of Blaine and all the progress they were making.

At the same time though, he was worried about the long road ahead, and all the mess of working out exactly how much involvement with Devon Anderson's Blaine really wanted. The issues that they were facing couldn't be solved in two weeks. Kurt only hoped he was providing the right grounding and the right tools for Blaine to tackle them in the long term.

“Arthur, I have a feeling you're going to be very busy for a while.” Blaine said, hanging up the phone. “That was my dear cousin Nigel. Apparently he spoke to my brother recently and asked Cooper what he thought of selling off Devon Anderson's to a larger company for a sizeable price. Cooper, of course, said he would think about it. I swear he doesn't know how to say no to things. It was probably a very noncommittal 'I'll think about it', but Nigel seems to have taken it very seriously. He's apparently already contacted more than one company asking about it. Naturally, he's furious to hear that it'll be me inheriting Devon Anderson's instead.”

“That kid has some nerve.” Arthur said, shaking his head. “But he doesn't have a leg to stand on. He has no legal say in the future of the company, so none of his attempted deals will ever be able to work. Unless, of course, you would like to sell?”

“No.” Blaine shook his head firmly. “We're keeping Devon Anderson's in the family.”

Arthur smiled, and his eyes filled with tears.

“You probably don't want to hear this, Blaine, but your father would be proud of you. He never told you, I suspect. He would have died before saying something like that out loud – he _did_ die before ever saying it. But take it from me, kid. He was proud of you.” Arthur's forehead wrinkles deepened as he looked at Blaine. “He never stopped talking about you and Cooper, not from the moment you were born. He wanted everyone to know what his two sons were accomplishing. I feel like I watched you grow up.”

Blaine nodded, lips pressed together to stop them from trembling.

“Thank you, Arthur.” He said. “You really will miss him, won't you?”

“I'll be one of the only ones who does.” Arthur laughed.

He clapped Blaine on the shoulder in a rather paternal gesture, and then made his way out of the door. Kurt was the only one left with the new CEO of Devon Anderson's.

He couldn't help taking that moment to admire Blaine. He looked very smart, standing there with the classy wooden panelling behind him, wearing a pristine suit. Their eyes met, and Kurt felt his stomach give a pleasant little lurch. He couldn't have moved if the entire room fell down around him.

“When I was showing you around, you asked what I used to do in the summertime as a little boy.”

Kurt nodded, glad that Blaine had broken the silence first.

“Well, it's one o'clock right now. We have at least three more hours of daylight here, and then we can probably leave the house and go back into town. The funeral is over and I'd rather get out of Maureen's way while she reorganizes things. Is that okay?”

Kurt nodded again. The longer he could spend with Blaine, the better. Especially because they had spent so long here at the Anderson manor that they not had just over a day left before the deadline hit.

…

In the next three hours, Kurt was given a taste of Blaine's childhood. Despite the freezing temperatures, they collected a picnic basket from the kitchen and filled it with finger food intended for the afternoon tea that was still happening somewhere else in the house. They donned their thickest coats, wrapped scarves around their necks, and braved the wind.

Blaine took him through the same trees again, and this time chattered happily to him about mostly nonsensical things until they arrived in a small clearing. They ate a late lunch there, listening to the trees whipping about in the wind that affected their highest branches. In the protection of Kurt and Blaine's little picnic spot, nestled in dense trees, they barely felt the breeze.

When they were finished, they returned to the house. The last part of the funeral was over, and the guests beginning to take off. Kurt and Blaine said their goodbyes to Cooper, who had decided to take to next flight back to his filming location a few days earlier than planned. He promised Blaine that he would come and visit the second they were finished, and ruffled his hair again. With a good natured squeal of annoyance, the younger brother pushed the older into Pat's car and shouted one last goodbye.

Then Blaine took Kurt out for an afternoon of clay duck shooting, archery, and even gave him what was meant to be a fencing lesson. The last hour dissolved into them joking around, quoting cheesy lines from movies as they chased each other in a pretend sword fight across the grounds.

Maureen shook her head at them and called them crazy when they got back inside. Muttering about “summertime activities” and “catching their death from cold”, she made them each a coffee and sent them upstairs to pack their bags.

Blaine flopped down onto his bed, tired but satisfied.

“Am I going to be able to do this?” He asked. “Can I really take a job this huge?”

“Yes.” Kurt said simply.

“Anything's possible with you.” Blaine exaggerated, flinging out a dramatic hand on the bed beside him like a damsel in distress in an awful movie.

“Most things are possible.” Kurt said, turning toward his open bag that was lying on the floor nearby. He avoided Blaine's eye and began to repack it more carefully, whispering his next words very quietly to himself. “But not everything.”

_Not me and you._


	23. Chapter 23

 

 

 

 

Late in the afternoon, the sun started to go down, and Kurt was jolted back to earth. It was time to go back out to his apartment. Pat drove them in comfortable silence. There was the occasional attempt at conversation, but mostly they just looked out the window, casting the occasional soft smile at each other.

The closer they got to being back again, the more nervous Kurt started to feel. He felt like the distance they drove just brought them closer and closer to their deadline. Two of the most intense weeks of his life, over in a flash. Of course, it was possible that even after they said goodbye, they might see each other again. But it would never be the same. Never so intimate.

Kurt should have been happy. He wanted to be happy. But try as he might, he couldn't summon the feeling.

Pat turned down the wrong road and Kurt suddenly sat up in his seat.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“I booked a hotel room.” Blaine explained. “It's nearer to the hall where the party will be held. I thought it would be easier, and hopefully a nice surprise?”

Kurt's chest tightened.

How could Blaine not have given him any warning? How could he expect to just book a hotel room and leave Kurt already? They had just over a day remaining. They still had time together. They couldn't say goodbye yet.

“But our time's not up yet.” He said too quickly. “You can't stay in a hotel by yourself. You aren't getting rid of me the day before all this is done.”

“I'm getting better, Kurt.” Blaine said.

“Maybe you are right now, but we still have work to do. I still need to help you with a few more things before we say goodbye. Just because Sebastian is coming to the party, it doesn't mean we've solved everything between you yet. And I want to check that you have all the tools to tackle your emotions when you have to deal with them alone. We need _time_ to set those things up. I have to be with you for that.”

“I agree.” He said simply.

“This isn't funny, Blaine, don't make that face!” Kurt said, voice higher than usual in his distress. “We had a deal and I'm staying with you until it's over.”

“I know. That's why I booked a suite with two bedrooms.”

“Oh.”

Kurt felt instantly embarrassed.

He ducked his head, his cheeks heating up. He felt like a high school kid again; still very good at making himself look like a fool in front of cute boys.

“I wanted to give you a thank you gift of sorts.” Blaine said hopefully, face open and seeking approval. “I thought a night in a luxury hotel might be a good start?”

“You really don't have to thank me.”

“But I want to.” Blaine said. “I'm also taking you out for dinner tonight.”

“Okay.” Kurt said softly.

He sat there with his hands clasped together on his lap, forcing himself not to think of dinner in _that way._ It was starting to really hit him how upset he was going to be when they said goodbye.

…

When they arrived at the hotel, it turned out to be just as fancy as the one Blaine had been staying in the night they met. Perhaps even more so. The very mention of their reservation had them instantly escorted up in the elevator to the top floor, where they were housed in a very expensive looking two-bedroom penthouse suite.

“The view you requested, Sir.” The concierge said proudly, gesturing to the huge windows that covered the whole wall of the main living area.

The hotel overlooked the river, and right below their window was the Main Street Bridge, shining gloriously, lit by the streetlights and the reflections in the water. Kurt's eyes widened and glanced over at Blaine, alarm bells ringing in his head. He tried not to react too obviously.

“Do you like it?” Blaine's eyes were sparkling.

“It's huge.”

“Yeah, there's this living area, a dining room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Best place I could find at such short notice.” He looked proud. “I thought you would like it.”

It was the most luxurious room Kurt had ever stayed in. He had only ever been in two truly luxury rooms, and both were courtesy of Blaine.

“It's amazing.” He said.

_Apart from the view._

…

They went out for dinner. It was a romantic little restaurant, and Kurt had to try very hard not to start daydreaming as they sat there, discussing every little thing going through their minds. It was so easy to talk to Blaine, so different from how things had been with Adam. Kurt couldn't help thinking that even his most romantic date with his ex-boyfriend had never even compared to hanging out with Blaine as close friends.

Just sitting here with the other man made him feel intoxicated; the effect of his presence was dizzying. Kurt was far too aware of every little movement. When their ankles brushed under the table, it made his heart soar. When their eyes met and he could see the trust that filled Blaine, he wanted nothing more than to lean across the table and kiss him senseless.

Kurt was afraid to look at him too long. He was worried that everything was written on his face; that Blaine might realize the man who was meant to be helping him was secretly day dreaming about pushing him down against the very table they were eating on and tearing off his clothes.

They finished their meal. Blaine insisted on paying, and frankly Kurt was glad, because none of their food had exactly been cheap. The whole way up in the elevator, their arms kept bumping together, and every time Kurt was sure his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

“I'm going to have a shower.” Blaine announced when they reached the room. He gave Kurt one last soft warm smile and then vanished.

Kurt groaned. He walked over to the giant couch, which seemed too big for just one person to sit in alone, and curled up, kicking off his boots and tucking his feet under himself. He raked his fingers repeatedly through his hair, tugging on the roots like it would drive away his thoughts.

One of the things Blaine wanted most in the world was to get his boyfriend back. His _boyfriend._

The last thing he was thinking about was Kurt.

Kurt shook himself. He seriously needed to get his head back on straight. He was losing his grip on common sense.

He stood up and made his way through to his own bedroom. For once he didn't bother with his moisturizing ritual. He quickly slipped into his pyjamas and sat himself down on the edge of the bed.

He couldn't believe how selfish he was being. All this time he was meant to be helping Blaine sort through his problems and feel like his life mattered again. He wasn't entitled to feeling this way and it was entirely _inappropriate_ of him to be having these thoughts. He needed to get back into his role of caring for Blaine. He needed to set his own strange attachment aside.

“You have to stop.” He told himself firmly.

Walking on tiptoe, he made his way to the door of the bathroom and pressed his ear against the wood. He expected to hear the usual sobs, but instead, there was only the quiet sound of Blaine singing. It was _Teenage Dream,_ the song they had listened to in the car near the start of their time together. Had that really only been about a week ago?

Kurt smiled and stepped back. No tears. That was good. That was wonderful. It meant he really was starting to improve. All they needed now was for Sebastian to want Blaine back, and they had worked out all the groundwork for Blaine to feel better about his life.

Kurt ignored the lump settling in his chest and padded across the ridiculously soft carpet to his bedroom again. He picked up his phone and dialled Quinn's number. He had been so overwhelmed by his own life lately that he hadn't even thought to see how she was doing.

The phone rang for a very long time before she picked it up.

“Hello?” She sounded breathless.

“Have you been running?” Kurt joked tiredly, trying to sound happier than he was.

“No, sorry, I was just- uh-” She giggled. “Nevermind. Are you okay? How have things been going?”

Kurt frowned, puzzled, listening closely to the sound he could hear in the background.

“Kurt?” Quinn said.

“Who are you with?” He asked.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Uh, I'm with Puck. He's helping me with the... search.”

There was a very loud snort in the background.

“Have you found anything yet?”

“No. We kind of- we kind of got sidetracked with something else over here.” She giggled again, and then shushed Puck as he tried to speak. “Kurt, I'm sure you can tell I don't have much time to- oh- to talk right now.”

“Yeah, I'm getting that.” Kurt laughed. “I just wanted to check in on you; make sure you're okay.”

“You know, the weird thing is, I really am.” Quinn was obviously smiling.

“That's good.”

“Before I go, tell me how you're doing. Tomorrow will be the de- birthday party, right? How's Blaine? How's everything been going?”

“Good.” Kurt replied. “He's doing really good. Look, I better go. You can get back to... what you were doing.”

Quinn laughed again.

“Goodbye, Kurt.”

“See you later, Q.”

And he hung up the phone.

For a moment, he just sat there, turning it over in his hands, thinking about what was clearly happening on the other end. He was glad that all of his friends were on the road to happiness. He just wished he could stop feeling so lonely.

When he looked up, Blaine was standing in the doorway. He was dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his bizarrely small waist. Water dripped from his chin and trickled down his chest so that it was obvious he hadn't even paused to dry off. He absent-mindedly wiped it away, still watching Kurt, and the movement revealed more of his body.

Kurt was staring unashamedly, but he sort of felt that Blaine turning up half naked almost gave him the right to.

Not that he was thinking this through very much anyway.

Kurt just stood there, wearing his loose pyjamas, waiting for Blaine to say something, to _do_ something.

The suddenly, very suddenly, for the first time since they had met, Blaine stepped over the threshold and into Kurt's personal space. He stopped right in front of him and his gaze flicked down. His eyelashes, so surprisingly long, brushed his cheeks, and then his eyes opened again and locked with Kurt's.

“I've been looking for you forever.” He said.

And then, before Kurt could process the statement, Blaine's lips were on his. His entire brain short circuited. The kiss rocked him backward for a moment as he inhaled and absorbed the impact of it. And then he was pushing back, tipping his head to the side.

He was almost afraid that Blaine was about to change his mind. Any moment he might pull back and turn away and decide it had all been a mistake.

But instead, Blaine parted Kurt's lips and licked gently into his mouth. Finally believing that he wasn't going to stop, Kurt lifted his hands to grip him closer, one flying up to tangle in his curls and the other one tightening, firm and solid, on Blaine's waist.

Blaine responded to the touch with a pleased little hum. He spun them, not detaching their kiss even for a second, and walked backward until his knees hit the edge of Kurt's bed.

Smiling against his mouth, he fisted both his hands in Kurt's shirt and pulled. They fell rather messily against the sheets and neither of them held back from laughing about it. Kurt pressed several short sharp kisses to Blaine's mouth as he climbed on top of him properly, kicking the towel out of the way. Against his leg, he could feel Blaine's cock, and though he didn't want to pull back from him enough to see it yet, it sent a thrill of happiness through him. He had done that. He had made Blaine feel this way.

His own hard cock was tenting the front of his pants, and he smiled as Blaine's hands tugged him closer, pulling him fully on top so he was straddling his hips. He could see the same pleased look pass through those golden eyes as Blaine felt how hard he was making Kurt as well.

As Kurt pressed him into the mattress, he felt Blaine's hands run up his front, undoing each button of his shirt with a sort of frenzied focus that distracted him from the kiss for a moment, giving Kurt the chance to nibble at the edge of his jaw.

Blaine finished the shirt and struggled to remove it. Kurt didn't hesitate before sitting back properly, wrenching the thing off his shoulders and throwing it to the ground, not moving from his place straddling Blaine's hips.

Blaine's eyes were glazed over as they raked over Kurt's torso, pupils blown wide. Kurt beamed under his awed stare and quickly loosened the tie on his pyjama pants, shifting his weight back over Blaine's body as he tugged them off completely.

When he looked down at the man underneath him again, Blaine's hands reached up to cup his face and pull him down again, kissing him more roughly now, teeth clacking together and making Kurt laugh softly against his mouth. Against his thigh, he could feel that Blaine was now _very_ hard, his hips now stuttering up into each sway of Kurt's body. It wouldn't be hard for him to realize that Kurt was in a similar state.

Kurt fell sideways a little, body no longer fully covering Blaine's, one leg slipping right between Blaine's like a jigsaw puzzle, and the angle of their kisses changed.

“Do you have...?” Blaine breathed, nosing away from Kurt's mouth and along his jawline. He took his sweet time tracing the contours of Kurt's neck with his tongue, not even bothering to finish the question.

“I-I- oh- I keep a condom in my wallet.” Kurt's voice rasped out much deeper than usual and it made Blaine moan against his neck, grazing his teeth across his skin.

“Lube?” he asked, only managing the one syllable before his lips sealed over Kurt's neck again.

“I'm sorry, I don't think I pack- oh.” He was panting now, stretching his head back to expose as much of his neck as possible. “I don’t think I brought any- fuck, Blaine.”

“I have some in my bag.” Blaine said. He kissed Kurt on the lips again. “Should I get it?”

“Mm, yeah.” Kurt would probably have agreed to anything at that point. He wasn't really paying _that much_ attention to what was being said.

“When I get back I- I want you to fuck me.” Blaine looked so utterly desperate. His hair was a mess, his eyes darker than they'd ever been before, his lips looking wet and so _so_ irresistible.

“Yeah.” Kurt agreed breathlessly, kissing him firmly one more time. “Hurry up then.”

He scrambled for his wallet as Blaine dashed out of the door. It didn't take him long to find the condom and set it gently on the beside table, ready to use. He turned back the duvet and pulled up the sheet underneath, covering as much of the bed as he could with the thing that could be most easily cleaned. But even while completing those tasks, his mind was elsewhere. He was still panting on every breath, and the lingering electricity of Blaine's touch wasn't fading from his skin.

Blaine appeared in the doorway. He held the tube of lubricant in one hand, but otherwise was completely naked. At the sight of Kurt, his mouth fell open and the most delicious noise of hungry disbelief spilled from it.

Kurt's smile was smug and just a touch shy. While Blaine stared at him, he took the time to observe his body in return. It really was the first time they had seen each other fully naked like this, with the opportunity for a long leisurely look. He loved Blaine's toned arms, and the unexpected softness around the smaller man's belly. His cock, jutting out firmly in response to seeing Kurt's, was almost mouth-wateringly tempting. Kurt had never wanted to touch someone this badly.

As if sensing his need, Blaine started toward him again, crawling across the bed to his lap. Beginning with another needy kiss on the lips, he began to trail his mouth down Kurt's body. He smiled proudly into Kurt's skin at the tiny mewling noises that began to escape him as he worked his tongue across his nipple. Kurt's hands fisted the sheets and Blaine kept going lower, finding planes of muscle and following them to a hipbone, nosing his way down until he reached the inner thigh, Kurt's cock touching his cheek.

Blaine's mouth moved sideways, tongue brushing over the base.

“No,” Kurt gasped, “Not- not that. I- I still want to fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Blaine agreed, looking up at him through his lashes in the most wonderfully vulnerable way. “Yes. Please fuck me.”

Kurt pulled Blaine upward again, guiding him to settle in between his legs, where his cock brushed against Kurt's and almost made him lose focus with the jolt of pleasure. Bringing Blaine's face closer to his with one hand, he initiated another kiss. It deepened quickly, though neither felt any need for a particular urgency. The moment was almost timeless. It was probably going to go on and on forever.

And Blaine's tongue explored his mouth, Kurt's fingertips traced gently down his body, learning the shape of his back and finding the dimples at the base of his spine. Kurt could still remember Blaine's ass in exquisite detail, the exact way it had looked when he accidentally opened the bathroom door and first caught sight of it. He hesitated a moment before letting himself touch it, sure that an ass this spectacular deserved the reverence.

Blaine moaning encouragingly into his mouth, rocking his hips a little so that their cocks slid together.

Kurt smiled into his mouth and pulled back for a moment, looking him dead in the eye as he traced Blaine's hole with the tip on his index finger. The smaller man's mouth dropped open as a sort of strangled sound pushed out of him. His eyebrows pulled up in the middle and his hands tightened where they rested on Kurt's shoulders as the finger pushed slowly inside.

“ _Fuck, Kurt, fuck.”_ He gasped. It was almost amusing how he had been so suddenly reduced to dirty-mouthed desperation in contrast to his usual dapper self.

Blaine was so warm. He was filling the room with his radiance. Kurt fumbled quickly for the lube to ease his movements. They twined together tightly, Kurt's fingers, now slick, were moving a steady pace as Blaine rocked against his cock, the seconds and minutes all blurring together. It was impossible to tell how much time was passing between their messy kissing and roving hands and Kurt slipping two more fingers inside as they kept going and going and...

“I'm ready.” Blaine pleaded. “More. Please, more, I need you.”

Kurt used the strength of his upper body to lift Blaine and lay him down on the bed, right underneath himself. Blaine reached out his free hand for the condom without any prompting. He fumbled with the wrapper, making Kurt chuckle softly and interrupt him with a tender kiss. He twitched his fingers at the perfect angle to catch Blaine's prostate, and they had to pause for a moment while Blaine moaned, his ass clenching against the feeling for a second. And then he was slipping the condom over Kurt's cock.

Kurt shifted to the perfect place, fingers slipping out and, as Blaine's hole fluttered desperately at the sudden loss, he eased his cock inside.

“Fuck,” Kurt sounded strangled now. His squeezed his eyes shut. “Blaine, fuck.”

“Kurt.” Blaine panted, taking it so well, his face begging for as much as he could handle. His back arched a little, pushing against the feeling. “ _Kurt_. I need-”

Kurt rocked gently forward and Blaine moaned desperately, wantonly, hitching his legs higher to change the angle. They picked up the pace again, moving together in the most intimate of ways, noises rippling out uncontrolled and needy and-

“Faster.” Blaine's face screwed up for a moment, and then his golden eyes were wide open and locked with Kurt's.

Kurt, acting on impulse, reached his hand up to Blaine's open palm and twined their fingers together. Pressing a kiss against Blaine's forehead, he rocked against him again, again, again, in quick succession now, going faster and faster with each delicious pleading gasp that came out of Blaine's mouth.

“Blaine, I'm gonna...” Kurt didn't finished his sentence. His face screwed up as he thrust forward three more times.

And then his entire world unravelled around him.

His lips fell open, the color in his cheeks flushed brighter, and all he could see was Blaine's face, the amazement, the adoration, the overwhelming pleasure, the beauty of him making the rest of the world look like a blur.

And Kurt was flying.

His hips stuttered forward as he came. Underneath him, Blaine was gazing up at his face as though he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Shuddering down from the aftershocks of his orgasm, Kurt's hand was instantly on Blaine's cock, nudging Blaine's hand aside, pumping him in merciless rapid strokes until he, too, was over the edge.

In his post-orgasmic muddle, Kurt stared in absolute astonishment as Blaine made the most beautiful face he had ever seen in his life.

Too quickly, Blaine finished coming, ribbons of it covering his stomach and Kurt's hands and even the bed. His eyes fluttered open slowly and a contented smile spread over his face when he saw the man above him. Their fingers were still twined together, and Kurt dealt with his used condom in one-handed clumsy movements before rolling over so they were side by side on the bed, hands between them. Blaine snuggled in even closer than he already was, nose to nose with him.

It was a moment that lasted a lifetime; one that didn't need words. It was just their satisfied breathing, the occasional rustle of the sheets, and the tenderness in their faces as they watched each other.

Eventually, like a magnet that had been resisting it too long and couldn't hold back any longer, Blaine leaned in for another kiss.

They kept going.

And then they kept going again.

…

With Blaine sleeping all curled around Kurt's body, it helped them both to drift off faster than they had in a long time. There was something about Blaine's heartbeat, slowing down significantly now that they were just lying there, and the rise and fall of his chest, proclaiming his life, his vitality, that helped Kurt fall asleep.

When he closed his eyes he was at the Anderson's manor, only it was half built, like the abandoned apartment complex where Kurt had met Dave Karofsky. Its windows were all covered in grey plastic and there was leftover piping cluttering the ground. Beside him, Detective Lopez was standing, staring upward with the most grim look on her face. Kurt followed her gaze.

Dave was standing up there, on the edge of the building, his suit rippling in a fierce wind. In a sudden panic, Kurt turned back to Detective Lopez, only to find her pushing a ladder into his hands.

“You have to climb.” She hissed at him. “You have to save him.”

Only in the dream, Kurt somehow knew he couldn't, because he was wearing a skirt. He said as much to the crowd gathered around them, the crowd he hadn't been aware of until this moment.

They laughed at him, pointing at the skirt as though they'd never seen one before.

“You can still climb a ladder in a skirt.” Rachel Berry's voice came from nowhere, sounding exasperated.

But Kurt still knew he couldn't climb. He was aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing any underwear. He had rushed here after having sex with Blaine. If he climbed the ladder they would see his... everything.

As they continued to pressure him, he said this out loud as well.

Sebastian materialised out of the crowd. With the snarky, self-assured smile, he declared that Kurt should be arrested for being so inappropriate. Everyone around him nodded their heads in agreement. Even Rachel. Even, Kurt could suddenly see him standing off to the side, Burt Hummel.

Detective Lopez promised to arrest him as soon as he finished rescuing Dave. With true dream-logic, Kurt found himself climbing the ladder at last, now somehow fully clad in a pair of pants.

As he climbed, the crowd cackling behind him, Kurt felt the wind pick up.

His hands tightened around the railing. His heart beat skyrocketed. The ladder blew away from the edge of the roof. He was falling.

He looked up and saw Dave Karofsky standing there, crying, a familiar look on his face. It was the look he had worn the night of the incident. The one just before he made the decision to die. The one that made Kurt feel like he was drowning in guilt.

And then Blaine was there too. He stood right beside Dave, and he shook his head scornfully.

“I wish I'd never met you.” He said.

And those were the last words Kurt heard before the ladder properly dropped, sending him plummeting toward the ground.

…

Kurt woke with a start. He was still wrapped around Blaine. A glance at the clock told him he couldn't have been sleeping more than an hour.

“You okay?” Blaine said, voice croaky and drowsy eyes trying to open. Kurt must have somehow woken him.

“'M fine.” Kurt assured him, nuzzling closer. “Go back to sleep.”

Blaine's breathing evened out in seconds. It took Kurt a little longer to follow.

…

Kurt was back at the apartment block again, but now it was furnished as lavishly as their hotel room. From every side, there was the sound of people moving about. The place was teeming with life. The way it should have been, had it actually been finished.

In front of Kurt stood Dave Karofsky. He held a single banana in his hand. He told Kurt that it was a gun.

Kurt started to speak; too fast, words jumbling all over the place. He wasn't making any sense. Somehow, Dave understood him. When the nonsense came to an end, the suicidal man placed his banana back down on the countertop beside him.

Kurt sighed with relief. He looked around, expecting Detective Lopez to appear, expecting the police to take over things for him. But no one was there. No one was coming. He was so relieved that the banana was no longer in Dave's hands, and yet he was only growing more anxious as the seconds went on. He knew he needed to say something. He couldn't stand in silence while they waited for the police.

“Now you can go home, Dave. Home to your girls.”

He knew it was wrong as soon as he said it.

The whole time Dave had been telling him that this apartment was meant to be his home. This place, which had been taken from him, was meant to be where he lived out his life with his family.

They _were_ standing in Dave's home.

The room around them leached itself of all colour, grey and bleak and unfurnished again. Only the banana sat there, bright and enticing, on the countertop.

Dave looked up, and Kurt's mistake was bearing down on him like the weight of a thousand apartment blocks. He wanted to correct himself, to scream out and say something. But he couldn't.

Dave picked up the banana again. It had turned into a gun.

Moving so fast there was no way to stop him, he pulled the trigger.

And Kurt woke up.

 


	24. Chapter 24

 

 

Kurt's own words were ringing in his ears. His heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Blaine was still lying there beside him, one arm slung across Kurt's chest. The clock on the beside table said it was 4 a.m., but Kurt was wide awake now. He couldn't have gone back to sleep even if he'd wanted to. He sat up, a little sweaty from his dream and sticky from Blaine's come.

He couldn't believe he had finally remembered what he said to Dave that night.

Very carefully, Kurt extracted himself from under Blaine's arm, and the smaller man curled himself around the pillow instead. Kurt scrambled in his bag for a notebook and quickly wrote out a small message.

_Had to go. I'll see you soon. Will explain then._

_Kurt_

For a long time he debated between adding an 'x' or a smiley face. He still had no idea what had been going through Blaine's mind the night before. He didn't want to seem to clingy. He didn't want to be presumptuous.

He went with the smiley face.

Besides, he would probably be back already by the time Blaine woke. The hospital wasn't too far away.

Kurt rushed through the quickest shower possible, only slowing briefly to absorb the fact that it was _Blaine's_ come he was washing away. He threw his clothes on as quickly as possible, barely checking to make sure that they actually looked good together. Last of all, he grabbed his cellphone and his wallet, and then raced from the room.

…

It took him about ten minutes to reach the hospital, and he ran up the stairs so fast his muscles screamed.

Thankfully, Mercedes was back on duty again. After Mr. Anderson's death she seemed to have been relocated to her usual ward. She was halfway down the corridor when Kurt rounded the corner and she saw his panicked face.

“Kurt, what's wrong?” She asked.

“It was my fault.” He blurted out the moment he had come to a stop in front of her.

“It's not your fault. I keep telling you that.” She looked incredibly concerned.

“No, you don't understand, I remember something now!” He tried to push past Mercedes. “I have to say I'm sorry.”

“You aren't going anywhere until you calm down.” She said, catching his arm and looking him in the eye. “Just breathe for a second, Kurt.”

He did as she asked, squeezing his eyes shut and catching his breath. It was probably a good idea as well, since he had run the whole way upstairs. Only after he was fairly calm again did Mercedes let go of him and step out of the way.

“Thank you.” Kurt said. He slipped quietly into Dave's room and sat down by the side of his bed.

It was strange to see that nothing had really changed since the last time he was here, confessing his love for Blaine. Dave's face was still pale. He still breathed with the help of machines, and according to the chart at the end of his bed, his condition remained stubbornly stable.

“Dave, I came here to apologize.” Kurt began. “I remember what I said to you before you picked up the gun the second time. It took me so long, but I remember. A-at the time, I was just so relieved you seemed to have changed your mind, and so _scared_ you would change it back. I just- I didn't stop panicking and I wasn't thinking about what I was saying. I told you that it was time for you to go home, didn't I? I said you could go home, when I knew perfectly well you were already standing in the place you considered your only home.”

His words suddenly turned into a sob and he had to pause, recollecting his composure, wiping away tears, before he could continue.

“I did listen to you, Dave. I promise I did. What you were saying mattered to me and I understood all of it. I slipped up really badly at the end. And I'm sorry.”

He wrung his hands together.

“That's what I wanted to say. That I'm so sorry.” Kurt shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, which honestly must have been an awful mess even without the extra ruffling. “It would be wrong of me, and terribly selfish, to suggest that any good came out of you doing this. But- but you changed my life Dave. Without you, I wouldn't have met Blaine. That's the guy I told you about before, if you don't remember. I would never have fallen in love like this. So I just wanted you to know that as well as being sorry, I'm so thankful.”

He took a deep breath, thinking about the night he had just had with Blaine.

“I'm not as afraid anymore.” He said at last. “I don't feel as trapped as before. I feel like I could do anything now. And that's because of you. You helped me. So thank you. Thank you so much.”

Suddenly Dave's breathing hitched and stuttered. The machine at his side changed its beeping pattern, squealing out in the otherwise quiet room. Kurt jumped to his feet. At the same time, the door swung open and Mercedes was rushing inside.

“I was just talking to him.” Kurt said, feeling frantic. “What did I do?”

“You didn't do anything.” Mercedes said quickly, only half her mind on Kurt. She jabbed a button on the wall and within moments, a second nurse burst through the door. She took one look at Dave, nodded at Mercedes, and disappeared again.

“Kurt, you're going to have to leave now.” She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes full of obvious affection. “Just remember you haven't done anything wrong, okay? I'm actually glad you were here with him. Now go.”

Kurt nodded mutely.

He left the room in a state of shock. Medical staff pushed through the door after him, a babble of voices and hospital uniforms.

Dave Karofsky was pronounced dead later that night.

…

Kurt sat in the waiting room until he finished shaking from shock. He still had no idea what was happening across in Dave's ward, but he figured he wouldn't ever really have the chance to find out. He wasn't family and wasn't technically entitled to any updates. So he made his way back to the hotel.

By the time he got there, it was 8 a.m. and he felt very drained. He just wanted to climb back into bed beside Blaine's warm body and recharge himself with that love and contentment; with the ability to believe in all the good things of the world.

Instead, he found Blaine was already awake and out of bed.

The sight of him make Kurt's heart lift, but then he registered the look on his face, and that shaky panic thrummed back through his veins again. He knew that expression when he saw it. He'd seen it on his own face when driving home to break up with Adam all that time ago. It was regret.

Kurt readied himself in the way he had always been so good at readying himself, shield of cold aloofness ready to spring up; prepared to be hurt; to be stabbed through the heart.

“You've been crying?” Blaine said by way of greeting.

Kurt glanced across at his reflection in the window. Outside, the sun was just starting to rise. It might have been sort of beautiful, if Blaine wasn't sitting right there in front of it with that look on his face.

Kurt's reflection itself was kind of a mess. His hair was all over the place, as expected, and the clothes he had thrown on didn't _quite_ match. Not only were his eyes red, but so was his nose. It wasn't exactly a sight that might win Blaine over if he was having doubts. Kurt's stomach felt like a rock low in his belly.

“It's not... I shouldn't have... I didn't want you to feel...” Blaine's words were all jumbled. “I need to say sorry to you, Kurt. I should never have come to you last night. It wasn't fair to you at all that I just showed up at your door like that and... I'm sorry.”

Kurt blinked, giving himself time to breathe without his lungs constricting too much.

“No, I should have known better.” He swallowed, trying to make his voice less croaky. “You have Sebastian, the big party, the exciting news to share with everyone about your job. So much is happening for you, Blaine. So don't worry about it.”

Blaine opened his mouth, and Kurt didn't think he could stand hearing another apology.

“Let's just forget what happened.” He continued quickly. “And I want you to know that I'm sorry as well. I shouldn't have...”

“Yeah.” Blaine said, and his tone was dull.

“So are you feeling okay?” Kurt changed to topic, voice too bright and almost making him wince.

“I'm fine.” Blaine said, and he offered a smile.

He looked exhausted, and as though the short conversation had already taken a lot out of him, but Kurt believed him. He wasn't so broken anymore. His deep depression was shifting; no longer his default mood.

“So...” Kurt trailed off and bit his lip.

“Well, yesterday we said that we would probably spend most of the day apart, getting ready and everything. So, well, I guess I'll see you at the party tonight?” Blaine said it like a question, a hopeful tilt to his chin.

“You still want me to come?” Kurt didn't manage to keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Of course I do.”

“You know you don't have to-”

“I want you to do there.” Blaine said more firmly.

Kurt nodded. With the realization that Blaine believed their whole night together had been a mistake, it was very hard to feel hopeful about anything. But he did hope that Sebastian would be there, filling the space at Blaine's side. That way Kurt didn't have to smile and pretend he wasn't swamped in sadness on the inside.

He did a very good job of lasting until he got back to his apartment before he broke down in tears.

…

Kurt hid in bed. He ignored his phone and the door and the entire world while he covered his head with his duvet and wished he could take everything back.

The problem was, he couldn't even wish that properly, because last night had been so _good_ , so incredible, so beyond what he had experienced in that area before. Sex wasn't just sex with Blaine. It didn't just feel good, but it was also genuine, tender and comforting, with just the right touch of silliness, and a foundation of smouldering passion that burned steadily throughout the whole thing. They made love like their time together could actually mean everything Kurt wanted it to; like it was only going to be the first of _many_ more times when they could fuck each other; like they were making promises with every touch.

Even if he had been ignoring his phone and pretending he didn't even have a doorbell, that didn't mean that no one was trying to contact him. He knew because he had checked. The phone lay beside him under the covers, and every time he didn't pick up, he peeked at the screen to see who it was that he wasn't responding to.

There were several texts from Rachel, Finn, and even Carole. All of them were probably about Blaine's party tonight, but Kurt didn't read them. He just stared at the screen and watched his notifications piling up without unlocking his phone.

The doorbell rang.

He burrowed deeper under the covers. It wouldn't be anyone important. He didn't have time for other people right now. He'd had two weeks full of people and it was tiring him out. All he needed was a little alone time to get over the overwhelming sense of stress, and maybe, just maybe, start to talk himself into fixing his mess of emotions.

The doorbell rang again, and it started to be a little annoying. Kurt tried to think who could possibly be visiting him.

The only person he could reasonably guess would be Quinn. She may have sensed his sadness over the phone the night before. He wouldn't really be surprised to find her standing there, holding two cups of coffee and maybe even a box of pastries.

The doorbell rang several times in quick succession. Whoever it was seemed to be getting impatient. The thought of coffee and sympathy was starting to feel more appealing to Kurt. He threw off the covers at last, quickly straightened his clothes in the mirror, pushed his hair into a more presentable (but still mostly terrible) place, and when to answer the door.

Adam was standing right outside.

“I didn't think you'd be home.” He said.

Kurt stood a little straighter, clenching his teeth, already feeling pissed off at the sight of his ex. This man and his personality transplant were more of a headache than he wanted to deal with right now.

“Then why did you keep ringing the bell?” He snapped.

“I don't know. I guess I hoped...” Adam shrugged, not meeting Kurt's eye.

“Yes, well I'm here, so what do you want?”

“You don't look very good.” Adam said.

“That's because I don't _feel_ very good.” Kurt said. He couldn't help thinking the whole thing was unnecessarily awkward.

“This is a box of your things.” Adam said, holding it out.

He hadn't bothered to close it, and through the open top Kurt could see CD cases, a silk scarf, several books, some half empty bottles of hair product. Hardly a big enough reason for Adam to drive all the way out here.

“Thanks.” Kurt said. He started to reach for the box, but Adam wasn't done yet. He was balancing it on one knee, reaching inside as if searching for something.

“Here.” He said, “I knew you'd want this back.”

And then he pulled out the jewelry box that had belonged to Elizabeth Hummel.

Kurt promptly burst into tears.

Adam seemed at a total loss of what to do. It used to be his job to comfort Kurt; and Kurt used to actually _want_ his comfort. But now they stood there like two strangers, except for the fact that strangers might, possibly, be more friendly. Adam just watched while Kurt attempted to control his sudden sobbing.

“Thank you.” He hiccupped, trying to compose himself. He reached out and took the box, clutching it close to his chest.

Now Adam had nothing to still his fidgeting hands. He looked deeply uncertain.

“I also wanted to say-”

“Please don't say anything.” Kurt interrupted weakly. “I don't know if I can _stand_ to hear any more of what you have to say.”

Adam frowned as if he was _confused_ , and Kurt's blood boiled.

“I'm sorry – and you _know_ that – I'm so sorry that I hurt you. What I did to you wasn’t very nice. But I couldn't _make_ myself love you, Adam. We weren't right for each other. And in the end I _know_ that this was the right choice for me to have made. We'll both be better off apart.”

Adam swallowed, quiet for a very long time. Kurt was prepared for him to say almost anything in response.

“I wanted to say that I'm sorry as well.” Adam mumbled.

That took Kurt by surprise.

“What for?” He couldn't help asking. His fury bubbled even higher. “For trying to take as much of my stuff as you could? For directing your tirade of anger at me for almost _four months_ now? For hurting my _friends_ to get to me?”

“I'm sorry for all of that, I guess.” Adam turned his face away, shifting awkwardly. “But mostly I- I'm really sorry for the voicemail I left you. I should never have said what I said. It was so wrong of me.”

Kurt's heart hammered. There was only one voicemail he could be referring to; one Kurt had never even heard; one Blaine had deleted.

“Which one, Adam? There were an awful lot of them.”

“The one about your mother, okay?” Adam's shoulders hunched in. “I should never have said it. I was very drunk and I wanted to hurt you in the worst way I could think of and- and it was totally out of line. I should never have used that against you when I _know_ there's nothing you're more afraid of.”

And then Kurt knew what it was. He knew what that awful _awful_ voicemail had said. Perhaps he had actually known it all along. He didn't really feel surprised. Sometimes you can know something without really knowing it.

“You said I'd kill myself like Mom did.” He said, voice trembling.

Adam looked ashamed.

“I'm so sorry.” He repeated.

Kurt couldn't help thinking about how Blaine had heard that message. All this time, Blaine had known his deepest secret; that Elizabeth Hummel had killed herself, and that in Kurt's darkest moments, when someone complimented him on being _just like her,_ he was secretly worried that they were too much alike.

He knew, of course, that he hadn't ever had quite the same sort of depression as his mother. Elizabeth had been in and out of psychiatric clinics for most of her life. She was a deeply thoughtful person, an artist, a poet, a singer. She wore beautiful clothes and sang in a voice like an angel. She laughed louder than anyone, and cried with an intensity that shook her to her core. The bright and enigmatic woman that had captured Burt's heart had also broken it over and over. It wasn't her fault of course. Most of the time, she had been an amazing mother, and an amazing wife. But she always had _those days_. She would sink back into the pit of her despair and no one, not even her sensitive son, with his hand on hers and a pleading smile on his face, could pull her out of it.

Kurt had always known how his mother had died, even when he was a young child. Burt was an honest man, and their small family had been extremely close. Kurt knew that his mother had been an unshakably sad person for such a long time. He knew that she had chosen to stop living.

By the time he was a teenager, people were always telling him how much he had in common with Elizabeth. Even Burt did it. He never noticed that at a certain age, the comments started to scare Kurt.

When he hit high school and his life became a living hell for a very long time, Kurt thought extensively about harming himself, even killing himself. But he could never let himself do that. He could never become his mother.

He forced himself to get out of bed every day, and kept on and on and on...

It was a long time before Kurt was able to escape the mentality that made him want to give everything up. As he grew older, he realized that even though he resembled Elizabeth in so many ways, they had never been the same person. He wasn't doomed to her fate in any way. He had his own problems and made his own choices. He was not a carbon copy of his mother.

Things had been easier when he finally made friends, and he learned that his own depression wasn't a permanent thing; wasn't set so deeply that he needed the help his mother had always needed. He could tackle it. He could cope with it. Kurt, for the most part, stopped being afraid.

The idea that he might follow in Elizabeth's footsteps faded into one of his nightmares; one of those things that was incredibly unlikely, but still rose up out of the blackness when life seemed at its absolute worst...

“I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you.” Kurt told Adam honestly.

He didn't know how he _could_ forgive something like that. He had confessed that fear, the worst of all the things that haunted him, in confidence that it would never be spread and never used against him.

There was a very long pause as Adam absorbed his words.

“That's fine.” He accepted, sounding more like his usual self, much sweeter than the bitter man he had been the past few months. He glanced up at Kurt and then nodded. “I understand. I'll see you around, I guess.”

“I guess.” Kurt said hollowly. He started to close the door.

“You were right.” Adam blurted out suddenly, making him freeze. “You were right about us. I didn't get it for a long time, because I liked how we were. I liked feeling safe and uncomplicated with you. But I know we were never romantic, never exciting, never fitting together as well as we wanted to. In the long term, we may never have worked. I think you were right.”

“I know.” Kurt said.

Adam nodded one more time. And then he turned away down the path and disappeared.

 


	25. Chapter 25

 

 

A few hours later, Kurt's phone rang. He turned it over to see who it was that he was about to ignore.

_Detective Lopez._

That made him sit up and pay attention. Before he could decide what to do, the ringing stopped. And then started again.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Kurt?” There was a strange edge to the familiar voice.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He wanted to ask if Blaine was okay, because why else would she be calling him right now? But he held back, waiting.

“I forgot how high your voice is.” Lopez sounded distant even while insulting him, like her thoughts were very much taken up elsewhere. “I need you to come to the pediatric hospital right away.”

“Wait, the children's hospital?” Kurt asked, confused.

“Yes, the children's hospital.” Lopez snapped. “Can you come? Can you come _now_?”

Kurt finally identified what that weird tone was the colored her words. She had been crying.

“Why?” He asked, feeling far out of his depth.

“Because I asked you to.”

“I- uh- I'm not really feeling that good right now.” He said, not really wanting to rush down there without even knowing why.

“Well snap out of it. There's someone here who needs you.”

“What is this about?” Kurt insisted.

“Jesus, Kurt,” Lopez's voice suddenly choked out in the form of a sob. “Will you just get your ass down here already.”

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, already throwing on a jacket. He never thought he would hear this woman cry.

“Just get here quickly.” She said. “ _Please.”_

…

Detective Lopez was waiting for Kurt outside the main entrance to the hospital. As soon as she caught sight of him, she turned and walked the other way, clearly expecting him to follow her. He had to jog to catch up, and just managed to join her in the elevator before the doors slid shut.

Kurt could now see just how awful Lopez looked, and it put him on edge. She was usually so composed, but now her eye makeup was smeared across her face, her nose red from crying, her lower lip trembling.

“You don't look very good.” Kurt said tentatively, wondering if Lopez was going to explain what was going on.

“You're not too perky yourself.” She said without any of her usual snark. She was just going through the motions, not actually caring much about what she was saying.

“Who am I here to see?” Kurt asked.

Lopez squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deep shuddering breaths to stop herself from crying.

“My daughter.” She finally said, voice choked. “She tried to kill herself.”

Kurt's mouth fell open.

_Oh._

The elevator doors opened and the Detective stepped out instantly. Kurt had to shake himself and jog along quickly in her wake, trying to catch up.

“That- that's really shit. I'm so sorry this is happening to you.” He said, not sure quite how to respond. She reached up a hand and wiped almost aggressively at the tears falling from her eyes.

“I want you to talk to her.” Lopez said.

“You want _me_ to talk to her?” Kurt repeated.

“Please,” Lopez looked at him as if she were about to start weeping all over again and she hated it. “There are people here, but she won't talk to them. She won't even say two words. A-and my wife can't exactly- can't pull herself together enough to be able to help. And I'm the worst person with things like this. I don't know what to say. I can't-”

She couldn't continue. Her mouth turned down in a sob and she pressed a hand to it, shoulders shaking and eyes clamped shut against her tears. Kurt reached out a hand and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Detective-” He began.

“Santana.” She corrected, voice small and scared and strangled like he'd never heard it before.

“Santana,” He said softly. “I don't know if I can. I couldn't help Dave, and I messed up so many times with Blaine. I don't want you pinning your hopes on me, because I know I'll let you down. I'm not a professional. I can't-”

“You convinced Dave to put the gun down the first time. You got Blaine off the bridge. And I saw how he behaved around you afterward. Your help meant the world to him. That's what made him willing to try again.” Santana swallowed against the tightness in her throat, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Plus, I know about your family history.”

“Oh,” Kurt looked down. It hadn't occurred to him that his mother's story would be there, in the police records.

“You _understand,_ Kurt. You're the only person I know beyond doubt that I can trust to try this. Please talk to her.”

“Okay.”

He followed her through a long corridor and down to the door on the very end. Standing outside was another woman, and Kurt's heart gave a jolt of recognition. Pieces suddenly clicked together in his mind and he barely kept from gasping out loud.

Brittany Pierce was leaning against the wall, her eyes red and her hair a total mess.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of Kurt and she threw her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.

“You didn't tell me the guy you were calling was Kurt _Hummel_.” Brittany wept, clutching at him like she, too, had just pinned all her hopes on him.

“I didn't know you knew each other.” Santana said.

Brittany let go of Kurt and immediately stepped back to stand beside her wife, sliding an arm around her waist like they both needed the support. They were an unexpected couple, that was for certain, and Kurt couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that he'd somehow got to know each of them separately without even realizing they were married. But he thought they seemed to work oddly well together. They balanced each other out in the strangest way.

Not that this revelation was important now. There were other things to focus on.

“Should I go in?” Kurt asked, heart fluttered madly in his chest.

“Please.” Santana said one more time.

…

The teenage girl in the hospital bed had Brittany's honest blue eyes. There was a very thick bandage wrapped round and round her left arm. She was sitting up straight, watching the door as if she was expecting something. When she saw Kurt, her dark eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“You're the guy Mama went to call?” She asked, as bold as Santana.

“I am. My name's Kurt.” He smiled at her, letting the door fall closed behind him and wiping his sweaty hands nervously on his jeans.

“I'm Valerie.”

“Can I sit with you for a while?”

Valerie nodded, watching him with barely veiled suspicion as he took the seat by her bedside.

“Do you work here?” She asked suddenly, a proud tilt to her chin.

“No.”

“I don't have to talk to you, you know.”

“You're right. You don't.”

Valerie huffed. She crossed her arms, eyes flickering down almost self consciously to the bandage.

“They keep sending people in to talk to me. They ask me why I did this, over and over again. Even left a bunch of cheesy leaflets. At least those almost made Mama smile.” She shook her head scornfully at their attempts to help her. “All those people are disgusting. They keep asking such awful things.”

“Like what?”

“Like did anyone ever touch me without me letting them. Did either of my Moms ever touch me. Stuff like that. They didn't ask directly of course, but I could tell it was implied.” She looked furious.

“Well I'm not going to ask you anything like that.” Kurt promised.

He remembered similar questions directed at him after his mother took her own life. They had all seemed to think Burt might have been treating her badly, somehow making her miserable. As if Burt hadn't been more shattered than anyone to lose the woman he clearly loved.

Valerie looked unconvinced.

“I'm not a doctor, and I'm not a therapist. I'm just here to listen to what you have to say. That's all. It seems like you've been through a lot and I'm here if you want to tell me about any of it.” Kurt explained himself.

“Are you a policeman?”

“No.”

Valerie looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Her good hand was fiddling with the sheets on her bed now, but the left was lying limp in her lap, like she didn't even want to think about it.

“Are you gay?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Kurt said.

“So are my Moms.”

“I gathered.”

Valerie shot him a derisive look, eyebrows raised, but her lips twitched like she might smile.

“Why did Mama ask you to come here?”

“Because she knows that when I was eight years old, my Mom killed herself.”

Valerie looked up at him then, giving him her full attention.

“I understand what it's like to live with someone who feels the way you do.” Kurt continued. “In fact, when I was in High School, I came very close to hurting myself as well. See, when I was your age, being gay was even less okay than it is right now. I wasn't sure for a long time if I want to keep on living.”

“Oh.” Valerie said, looking down at her bandage. “I'm sorry.”

“I also understand why it might be hard to talk to your parents about these things. They can be pretty overbearing, right? Never stop fussing. My Dad's still like that and I'm twenty six years old.” Kurt rolled his eyes fondly and Valerie exhaled in a way that might be interpreted as a laugh. “He always worries about me. And I never want to make him too worried.”

“I don't want my moms to be worried either.” Valerie's face had fallen again. Her lower lip was trembling, just like Santana's had been before she starting crying.

“I know. But the thing is, parents care too much to stop themselves from worrying sometimes. They always want to know when you're upset. They may not understand that you're just trying to protect them, because they love you and they want to take care of you.” Kurt smiled. “But if you still don't want to worry them, that's okay. That's why I'm here. So you can talk to me instead.”

He waited to see if Valerie would respond, but she kept playing with her sheets, listening and trying to still her wobbling lip.

“I'm not going to judge you, or tell you that you should have done this or that differently. I'm just here to listen. Sometimes it helps if you can talk about things, say things out loud. If there are things you want help with that I don't quite understand, we can even involve someone else. But only if you want to. This is completely within your control. Nothing has to be shared with me if you don't want to share it. And _nothing_ leaves this room without your approval.” Kurt said firmly. “So don't worry. You can tell me anything.”

Valerie's face crumpled and she started to cry. She quickly tried to hide her face with her one un-bandaged arm. Her shoulders shook with sobs.

“I d-didn't think there could be anyone I could talk to.” She admitted, barely getting the words out.

“Well, now there's me.” Kurt promised, reaching for the tissues on the side table and handing her one. “And even when I can't be around, there will always be someone else.”

She nodded, yanking out a tissue and dabbing at her eyes, composing herself.

“I slit my wrists.” She said, lifting the bandaged left arm as if Kurt hadn't noticed it already. “You hear about people doing it all the time, so I decided it was the easiest way to get the job done. I waited until evening, after dinner. Mama was still at the station, and Mom went out to do some gardening. So I locked myself up and cut my arm open. Only it didn't really work. I used my razor and it was hard to break the skin. It hurt way more than I expected. And then, when I was lying there and bleeding and it was hurting so bad, I could tell something wasn't happening like it should. I freaked out. I wanted to die and I couldn't even do that right. So I went downstairs and found Mom in the garden.”

Her tears spilled over again, and she dabbed them away with the tissue.

“She was so frightened. She started crying right there, and ran me inside. She called an ambulance and then called Mama at work. She even tried to bandage me up, but her hands were shaking so hard. I remember all I wanted was to run upstairs and try again. I wanted her to stop _looking_ at me like that.” Valerie shook her head rapidly, like she was trying to clear away the memory. “And then Mama came home just in time to get in the ambulance with us, since the station is so close to our house. She was so mad. I've never seen her that furious in my life. She asked me over and over why I would do that to myself. She looked like she wanted to kill me for trying.”

“She didn't want to kill you, Valerie. She was shocked and scared, and I know all she wants to do is protect you. Your parents want to make you happy. They don't like the idea that you could be so upset you would want to die.” Kurt tried to explain. “They love you.”

“They'll hate me.” Valerie started weeping again. “They'll hate me, I know they will.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because I did something _awful_. I made everyone else despise me too.” Valerie's body shuddered with sobs. “I was sure they would find out. I kept coming home from school expecting them to know already. At school, everyone knows. They all look at me, laugh at me in little groups, say stuff to my face. Even people who used to be my friends. Even Maria.”

“Is Maria one of your friends?”

“She was my best friend. Since we were five. And at first, when everyone else stopped speaking to me, she didn't. But then, one day, she wouldn't even look at me anymore.” Valerie looked so confused, so betrayed. “She didn't know how to be around me when things kept getting worse. People were writing stuff on Facebook about me the whole time; spreading things around. They started bringing Maria's name into it and she just... completely ignored me. Like I never existed.”

“Did something happen to start this off?” Kurt asked.

Valerie nodded.

“Something online?” He was started to get a sense for what might be happening.

“I-It was just a few pictures.” Valerie was blushing now along with her tears. “He said they were personal, just for us. I believed him. I couldn't imagine someone in real life lying about that. That only seems to happen in movies. I took as many photos as he wanted. I never knew- I never realized. And the next day they were all over Facebook. A friend called me to warn me. Some people were actually being nice at first. I- I wish I'd never looked. I've never felt so _humiliated._ ”

She blew her nose.

“I thought at first that maybe a friend might have stolen his phone and found them.” She admitted. “I never thought he could actually _do that_ to me.”

“Did you ever talk to him about it?”

“He never looked at me at school. It was a few days before I could actually catch him to talk. And then he _laughed._ He laughed at me and said I should be _happy_. Said heaps of celebrities got famous off stuff like this.” She wiped away more tears.

“How long ago was this?” Kurt said, anger rising higher inside him with every word Valerie confessed.

If he was already this furious, he could only imagine how Detective Lopez would react if she knew. The ferociously intimidating woman with her own gun against the pathetic high school boy? If it came down to a fight between her and the asshole with the smartphone, there was no doubt who would win.

After what he'd done, the boy should consider himself lucky that he was still walking about the earth.

“It's been two months now. I tried to ignore it. I tried to keep going to school, keep my head down, ignore them all, but they never let up. I'm still getting texts. Look at this.” She handed Kurt her phone so he could see the strings of messages. Some were so cruel he almost couldn't believe it.

Kurt understood why Valerie had felt that there was no where left to go. Her friends had turned their backs on her; the guy she liked had made a mockery of her for the whole school to laugh at and ricidule; she could never escape their constant hatred thanks to the internet and her cellphone; and she was being taunted daily in the most fragile time of her life. On top of all of it, she was afraid she couldn't even tell her parents; sure they would “hate her” as if she'd actually done something wrong.

She'd chosen a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Thankfully, it hadn't worked, and she was still alive. She had a second chance. But she would bear that scars of this horrible situation for the rest of her life. No doubt it would influence every decision she made from this moment onward.

Kurt handed her phone back.

“Valerie, you haven't done anything wrong.” He told her. “It may have been a mistake to send photos to this guy, but you didn't know that before it happened. There are plenty of cases where people exchange photos and there are no negative consequences. You couldn't have seen this coming, and I hope one day you realize that the problem lies entirely with him. Not with you. You're so strong for managing all of this guilt for so long. I really admire that. But I do hope you know now that it's usually better to share your problems with people who can help, rather than letting them bottle up like this.”

He gestured to her arm and she blinked back tears. Her jaw was clenched determinedly, like she wanted to memorize his words; like she wished she could believe him.

“After something this awful has happened to you, it might be a while before you manage to feel better about yourself. It'll be a very long process, and there will _always_ be days when things are hard. But you have people who care about you, and you'll be able to learn from this that there's always something better waiting, if you can just live through the next day. Your life is going to get better.” Kurt smiled hopefully at her. “I'm living proof of that. The fact that I'm happy being who I am is a testament to the silver lining on every storm cloud. I can see how strong you are, Valerie. I know you can do this.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“Are you willing to try?” He asked.

She looked at him consideringly for a very long time.

“Yeah.” She said at last. “Yeah, okay.”

Kurt beamed at her, feeling proud.

“Where would you like to begin?” He asked her.

There was a silence as she thought it over.

“Can you tell my moms?” She said carefully. “I don't think I could stand telling them myself. B-But I want them to know. I think you might be right. They probably wouldn't... hate me.”

“Then I can tell them.” Kurt assured her.

“Thank you.” Valerie leaned back against the pillows, letting herself relax a little.

They parted ways. Kurt's number was now in Valerie's contacts list in case she ever wanted to talk to him again. He'd offered to take her for out for coffee. She was under strict instructions to call him, or one of the hotlines they had found in her pamphlets, if she ever felt the urge to hurt herself again.

Kurt made his way out to the corridor, and found Brittany and Santana curled up together on the bench that was pushed against one wall.

Santana leaped to her feet the moment she saw him.

“Tell us.” She barked instantly.

“Not yet.” Kurt said firmly. “Not until you promise me something.”

Santana looked like she was about to gauge his eyes out with her fingernails. Brittany put a gentle hand on her back.

“You're going to have to hold your temper, Santana.” Kurt warned. “It's very important that you don't let yourself get too angry. Valerie is _terrified_ of how you might react. Right now she feels totally isolated and any negative response from you is going to feel like a rejection, even if none of your fury is directed at her. If you want to help her, you have to step back from how you feel and focus on being supportive.”

“He's right.” Brittany said softly. Santana glanced at her.

“Valerie already knows that she made a mistake.” Kurt went on explaining. “Do not lecture her. Don't make her feel stupid for doing this. It's a very serious thing and you can't treat her like she's a kid who stayed up past her bedtime. This isn't about discipline. It's about teaching her that she will always have your forgiveness.”

Brittany nodded seriously, and even Santana tipped her chin in agreement.

“She needs your unconditional love and support. She needs you to tell her that you aren't angry, or ashamed, or disgusted. Tell her you love her.”

“Of course we fucking love her.” Santana grumbled.

“Then listen to what she wanted me to tell you.”

Kurt told them everything Valerie had given him permission to share. The two women were hooked on every word. Brittany was holding Santana's hand so tight that her knuckles turned white, and Santana was vibrating with emotion. It was a good thing she had her wife there, gripping her tighter when she seemed like she was about to bolt (whether to run to her daughter's side or to find the boy that had done this to her, Kurt wasn't sure).

Kurt sat with the two of them even after he was finished. He waited until Brittany no longer looked like she was being stabbed repeatedly with a rusty knife, and Santana no longer looked like she was on the brink of murder.

As their sadness and anger melted away, Kurt watched their faces fill with immeasurable love. Their need to see their daughter and help her any way they could overpowered whatever they felt for themselves.

They thanked him and said goodbye. Then, hand in hand, they slipped quietly into their daughter's hospital room.

...

Exhausted, Kurt went home. He chewed his way through a sandwich as he started preparing for Blaine's party. It was such a strange thing to be doing after such an intense day and night. It felt almost out of place to do something as mundane as lay out clothes and fix his hair. The whole time, Kurt's brain was working in overdrive, thinking about Blaine again.

Despite his claim that he was better now, Blaine was only taking his first strides down the road to recovery.

Kurt found himself able to let go of his own feelings, perhaps after seeing Santana and Brittany do the same. Instead of pining for Blaine like he had been earlier that day, he just hoped Sebastian would turn up and give Blaine everything he'd ever wanted.

If Sebastian never came, then Kurt might lose the man he loved forever.

 


	26. Chapter 26

 

 

When Kurt arrived at the party, late, Blaine was standing outside the main entrance, greeting all of his guests. He looked dazzling in his elegantly cut deep indigo suit, and it took Kurt's breath away. It was only when his taxi driver called out at him to shut the door and stop letting the cold air in that he realized he had frozen, transfixed.

Kurt's own suit was one of his absolute favorites. It was the perfect shade of pale grey, with a seafoam green shirt underneath that almost matched his eyes, and a tie in a darker shade of grey. In true Kurt Hummel fashion, he had selected a broach from his mother's newly returned jewelery box. It was shaped like a canary; a bright splash of golden yellow to perfectly offset the greeny blue and grey of the rest of the outfit. His hair was swept up into the perfect quiff of chestnut. He knew he looked good.

Kurt turned to shut the door and pay his taxi driver through the passenger side window, and then spun back to face Blaine again.

Blaine was no longer greeting his guests. He was watching Kurt's arrival with eyes that seemed to sparkle under the lights above.

Trying and failing to prevent himself from blushing, Kurt made his way up the stairs to the entrance. Blaine's eyes were fixed on him the whole time, and it took everything in him to mask his heartbreak and smile.

“You look gorgeous.” Blaine breathed the moment Kurt reached him. Now that Kurt was standing right beside him, he could see how well the indigo of Blaine's suit jacket matched his own seafoam shirt. It only served to make his blush deepen.

Right now, Blaine was charming and confident, the side of him that had only started coming out over the last few days. Kurt matched his demeanor as best he could. He was skilled at pretending to be confident when he wasn't exactly feeling that way.

He'd never realized that it would be this hard to stand beside Blaine again; to see him and know that he had touched him, but would never be able to do so again.

“Thanks,” Kurt said. “I didn't really have time to find a new suit so I threw on one of my old favorites. It's been a pretty busy day.”

“How come?” Blaine asked, as attentive as ever.

“Adam came around this morning and, well, I got a phone call from Mercedes this afternoon to say that Dave had been officially pronounced as dead. Which was kind of jarring since I went to visit him this morning and I was technically there when it happened and-”

“Hold on, what?” Blaine asked. “Say that again?”

“Which part?”

“Dave died this morning?” Blaine's face paled. He looked stricken. “ _That's_ why you left?”

“Well I left because I had this dream and it made me remember something I needed to tell him. But while I was there he went into cardiac arrest or something? I don't know, his heart machine started beeping really weirdly.” Kurt shuddered. It really hadn't been a good day in terms of the amount of hospital visits he'd made.

Blaine seemed shaken by the news. Kurt hadn't realized that he cared so much about Dave.

“So is Sebastian here?” Kurt asked, trying to distract him with something that might cheer him up again.

It took Blaine a moment to register the subject change.

“No. Not yet.”

“Oh,” Kurt was surprised. “I thought he would be here at seven.”

“Me too.” Blaine said, looking out across the street.

It was eight p.m. now.

Kurt felt an intense wave of relief, followed instantly by worry. As much as he wished he could have Blaine all to himself, he knew that it was Sebastian's love they were depending on right now. If Blaine killed himself tonight, then Kurt wouldn't even be able to love him from afar. He would lose him entirely.

It was just the perspective he needed to be able to push aside his own sense of heartbreak.

“Listen, Blaine.” Kurt said, a little more urgent now. “If Sebastian doesn't come tonight, it isn't the end of the world. I want you to remember your crisis plan. I know we made a deal, and this was supposed to be a part of it. But if things don't work out, I still don't want you to- I don't want you- Whatever goes wrong tonight, I want you to remember that you're already getting so much better. You have so many things to live for. Do you understand me?”

Blaine opened his mouth.

“Happy birthday!” Sebastian's voice rang out from just over Kurt's shoulder.

Right when Kurt should have been victorious, that defeated feeling started creeping back into his head. He tried to brush it off. Sebastian was here. That was a good thing.

Blaine's eyes were still fixed on Kurt.

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Sebastian asked, reaching them.

“No,” Kurt said instantly, stepping back to let Sebastian take his place in front of Blaine. “I'm so glad you came. He's all yours.”

And then he pushed through the double doors and into the party, willing his eyes to stay dry.

…

“Hey, Kurt.” Burt greeted as his son joined their little circle in the back corner. “Is everything sorted with Blaine?”

Kurt nodded.

“He has everything he wanted.” He told his family, and his eyes were filling with tears despite all his attempts at self control. “A job he's happy with, an alternative solution if he ever wants to change his mind, reconciliation with his family, and- and he's about to get his boyfriend back.”

“Oh Kurt,” Rachel said sympathetically, wrapping her arms around him. “You're in love with him, aren't you?”

Kurt didn't know what to say.

He hugged Rachel tightly in return, wishing he could switch off his brain for a while. It was nice to be held. He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his chin on top of her head.

“Here.” Finn said, handing him a glass of champagne. “This'll help.”

Rachel unstuck herself from his arms so he could take the glass. Kurt gulped down the first mouthful, wishing Finn's words were actually true.

“Blaine didn't get one of those fancy cakes I recommended.” Burt said sadly, gesturing toward the food table and the decadent birthday cake in the very centre. “Why would he do that?”

Kurt shrugged.

“But they were so clever.” Burt said, glancing at his son. He examined him for a moment, like he was trying to decide what to say next, and then his face broke into a small smile. “He could even have got one shaped like a penis if he doesn't like fast food.”

Kurt snorted into his champagne.

“Oh my god, Dad.” He groaned, trying to pretend he wasn't amused. “Did you really have to say that?”

“Yes,” Burt said happily, and at his side Carole was smothering her own laughter. “It made you smile, didn't it?”

Kurt rolled his eyes.

“Now point out this boyfriend of Blaine's so I can send disapproving fatherly glares in his direction.”

“You don't have to do that.” Kurt said. “Blaine and Sebastian are perfect for each other. I don't resent them at all. I've known this whole time that this was how we wanted things to end up. Blaine couldn't be happier any other way. He has so much fun with Sebastian.”

“Relationships take more than just fun to keep them going.” Carole said gently.

“Blaine wanted to throw himself off a bridge after Sebastian left him. It's pretty clear that he loves him.” Kurt insisted.

“Yeah, but you _saved_ him from that bridge.” Finn said. “isn't that like, way more romantic?”

Kurt opened his mouth to argue, but he froze as he saw the look on his father's face.

“He's very lucky that he had you to save him.” Burt said quietly.

They all fell silent for a moment. It had been over eighteen years since Elizabeth Hummel had taken her own life, since Burt had walked in to find her on the bathroom floor beside an empty pot of pills.

Everyone in the family knew how it had happened. They also knew that Burt had tried to stop her from killing herself so many times before that. They knew he had spent too many evenings soothing her and holding her until she came out of her endless grief for long enough to function. Sometimes she would be okay for days, sometimes for mere hours. But she always fell back into depression again.

“Dad, I think you did save Mom. You saved her for a very long time.” Kurt said, fingering his broach. “She loved you. But in the end, she just couldn't be here any more. There was nothing you could have done.”

Burt was so moved by this that he had to turn his face away and compose himself. Carole took his hand in her's and he gripped her like a lifeline.

“There's Sebastian.” Kurt said, quickly changing the topic because he knew Burt wouldn't want to cry in front of all these strangers. He nodded across the room to where Blaine was leading him in.

“Mm, check out Blaine in that suit.” Rachel said, her smile predatory. “I don't know if I should kiss him or shake his hand.”

“Please shake his hand.” Kurt said, giving his sister-in-law his most judgemental look.

“Sebastian's very handsome though, isn't he?” Finn said, glancing at Kurt for approval as if he wasn't sure that he was a good enough measure of male beauty to be able to tell.

“He is.” Kurt said tightly.

Blaine and Sebastian looked amazing walking through the crowd together. Sebastian's suit was simple black, classy and yet understated. He greeted people charmingly, obviously familiar with most of the guests in the room. Kurt downed his champagne and plucked Rachel's flute out of her hand.

“Hey!” She protested as Kurt finished it off as well.

Before Kurt could retort, there was a clinking noise from the front of the room, and they all turned to see a man standing on the stage, tapping on his glass to get their attention.

When the crowd fell into a hush, he began to speak. He thanked a few illustrious guests for being there, and each time he said a name that Kurt's family recognized, he could see their impressed faces. It occurred to him that they might be the only people him the room who didn't earn a ridiculously high salary.

Then the man talked about the sad passing of Richard Devon Anderson, who, according to him, would be greatly missed (clearly he hadn't known him very well), and would be more proud to see his son on his birthday than anyone else in the room.

Last of all, with the air of Santa Claus giving out gifts, he told the room that Blaine was to be the new CEO of Devon Anderson's Chocolates.

A huge cheer rang out from the crowd. They clapped so loud it made Kurt feel a little woozy. Although that might have been the champagne. He hadn't eaten since his single sandwich at lunch time.

Blaine was beaming at he climbed the steps to the stage, looking like a movie star.

“Hi everyone.” He greeted. “I guess this is the part where I'm meant to deliver some big eloquent speech. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly good at talking about my feelings. I'm way better at singing them. But since they wouldn't bring in a piano for me, I'm going to have to give this a go. I'm lucky I had a good friend to help me out with writing it.”

His eyes roved over the crowd, and Kurt saw him shoot Sebastian a small smile. He felt a bubble of jealously expand in his chest and tried to push it down.

“Night like this aren't always easy.” Blaine continued. “It's a little overwhelming to be taking on something this big all at once. But I'm feeling... honored. It means a lot that so many of you came here today. I've heard that my leadership is meant to be a new beginning for Devon Anderson's, but I would prefer to think of it as the start of further success for the company. I only want to build on the sturdy foundations my father left for me. I'm feeling... uplifted. It's been amazing to talk to all of you, and you all have so many kind words to say about my father, though it's pretty clear, despite your good intentions, that you're all a bunch of liars.”

That got a good laugh out of the crowd. They were hanging onto Blaine's every word. Kurt's heart picked up speed every time he said 'I'm feeling...' and he started to realize that _he_ was the friend who had helped Blaine with his speech. Without even realizing it.

“My father was a lot of things, but he was mostly really _really_ good at his job.” Blaine said, and around the hall, heads were nodding.

Kurt spotted Arthur May in the crowd, tears in his eyes.

“I'm feeling... proud. Proud that he named me his successor, and that he thought I would be able to take on such an important role. I know that myself, and the board, and Tina Cohen Chang, who has recently been promoted to my favorite right hand woman, are united in our goals for the company. I'm feeling... excited. My experience may not be from the most relevant field, but I have a father and a grandfather who came before me as an example for me to follow. It is with confidence that I take on the traditions of Devon Anderson's while at the same time, looking to our future.”

There was some cheering, and Blaine waited it out, smiling so beautifully at everyone.

“So last of all, I want to thank everyone who made this night possible.” He said, and his eyes flickered around until they came to rest on Kurt.

There was a considerable silence. Blaine cleared his throat.

“Thank you.” He said. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

As everyone broke out into applause, Kurt pushed his way through the crowd, hurried, unable to get out of the room fast enough. He couldn't get enough air. He ran down a flight of stairs, shoved open the doors to the toilets, and locked himself in a cubicle.

Then Kurt burst into tears.

…

“Kurt?” It was Rachel's voice.

“You can't be in here.” One man spluttered, but she ignored him entirely.

“ _Kurt_?” She screeched again.

Kurt was frozen in his cubicle, heat rising to his cheeks.

The toilets had filled up very quickly after the speeches all came to an end, and so he was waiting for his puffy crying face to go back to normal before he risked leaving again. The problem was that he had become a source of debate among the men queuing up for their turn. He cursed the fact that this place had no urinals to speed them all up and get them out of here more quickly. It was mortifying to listen to them discussing the possible reasons why the toilet had been locked this whole time.

“Kurt, are you in there?” Rachel yelled.

“We think that one's out of order.” A man from the queue told her.

Feeling humiliated, Kurt quickly took out his phone and tried to send her a quick text, warning her to go away. But she began to hammer on his door, startling him.

“Kurt, is Blaine in there with you or something?” She asked, obnoxiously loud.

“Of course not!” Kurt snapped, so startled by what she was insinuating that he gave himself away. He heard someone in the line mutter something that sounded like 'taking a shit'. His blush deepened.

“But Blaine's missing.” Rachel said. “Didn't you hear? They just tried to start the cake cutting part and no one could find him.”

Kurt didn't reply, mind churning with possibilities.

“He's not with Sebastian either, if that's what you're thinking.” Rachel said. It was exactly what Kurt was thinking. “We saw him by himself at the drinks table.”

Kurt checked his reflection in his phone. It was still pretty clear he had been crying, but he no longer had time to worry about how he looked right now. Finding Blaine was more important.

He pushed open the door and found himself faced with a bathroom full of men, and his little brunette best friend in the pink dress.

“Come on.” Rachel said, and they marched out of the room together.

…

They ran into Sebastian at the top of the stairs, and Kurt grabbed his arm.

“Sebastian.” He said breathlessly, “Have you seen Blaine?”

“We were talking about twenty minutes ago.” Sebastian told him, looking surprised by Kurt's slightly frantic expression.

“What did you say?” Kurt asked, dropping his arm as if he'd only just noticed he was holding it.

Sebastian glanced awkwardly in Rachel's direction, and then looked at Kurt again. He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

“We decided not to get back together.” He said.

Kurt's pulse was hammering. He felt panic rise up and choke him. How could Sebastian do this again? For the second time? How could he give Blaine so much hope for reconciliation and then snatch it away? Could he not see what a wonderful person he was giving up?

“I promised not to tell you the rest yet.” Sebastian said reluctantly. “It's- it's meant to be a secret.”

“How could you just let him leave? Don't you realize where- don't you-?” Kurt broke off with a frustrated hiss.

Sebastian clearly had no idea what was going on. If he had known what Blaine had threatened to do, then he never would have let him leave the party.

“I think it's you who isn't realizing.” Sebastian said obtusely.

“Do you know where he is?” Kurt snapped.

“I don't know.” Sebastian sighed. “He said he was going away for a while to think about... something.”

All _Kurt_ could think about was the fact that Blaine had just been rejected by the man he loved on the very night he had threatened to kill himself, and then vanished from his own birthday party. It set off so many warning bells in his head he was surprised they weren't loud enough for other people to hear.

“Kurt, can you think of anywhere he might be?” Rachel asked, and her expression was strange; thoughtful and curious rather than panicky. She was staring with narrowed eyes at Sebastian as if he was a riddle she wanted to solve.

Kurt thought about it. He remembered entering their penthouse suite in the hotel that was only a few blocks away from here, looking out of the window at the perfect view of Main Street Bridge.

“Yes.” He gasped. “I know where he is.”

“Go on then.” Rachel encouraged, shooting one more glance at Sebastian before training her full focus on Kurt again. “Go and find him.”

…

Kurt exploded out of the front doors. He looked around at the cars parked along the street, but he didn’t have time to locate Pat and ask for a ride anyway. There was only one way to do this. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie and _ran_. The street passed quickly with each hammering step he took, the light of the party soon lost behind him. He had an entirely singular focus, one thing on his mind, one image filling it. He had to get to the bridge.

As he approached from a distance, cold air whipping around him, he could see the single figure standing there, in the exact same place he had stood two weeks ago.

“Blaine!” Kurt yelled, and Blaine turned to face him, startled. “Don’t do this, please!”

Blaine looked at him in concern, surprise and sadness crossing his handsome face.

“I’m not going to come any closer if you don’t want to me to” Kurt promised, holding his hands up. He was crying, nose running. It must have started at some point during his sprint toward the bridge, but he hadn’t noticed it until now.

Blaine didn’t say a word in response. He looked like he was searching for the right thing to say. Something to explain his actions to Kurt.

“I heard that things didn’t work out with Sebastian.” Kurt tried to catch his breath, tried not to speak too quickly and make Blaine panic as well. This was so much harder now that he _knew_ the man he was trying to talk down; now that he loved him. “I’m really sorry about that. I’m so sorry. I know you love him and you might feel as if you have nothing without him. But that’s not true. You have Devon Anderson’s, and there’s a whole room of people who are excited about what you can do with that. You have- you have- friends.”

Kurt inhaled deeply, face pleading.

“And you have me.” He said, lifting his shoulders and offering a very sad little smile. “I know that I’m not what you really want, but I’ll be just a phone call or a short drive away whenever you need me. I swear I’ll do anything I can to make you happy. The truth is… I need _you._ ”

Blaine opened his mouth, looking like he was about to cry, and then closed it again.

“When we first met,” Kurt continued. “I said I would show you how beautiful life can be. But I had no clue how to even do that. I had to buy a _book!_ As if that would have all the answers. But I learned that you can’t just chase happiness and expect to find it. Joy happens spontaneously. There’s no formula to follow. There aren’t any rules. There’s no perfect final state of mind you can achieve where you’ll just be happy all the time. It comes in bits and pieces. It does that for everyone.”

“Kurt,” Blaine said, and his voice trembled.

“I had stopped seeing the beauty in the world, without even realizing it. But being with you- spending time with you and helping you love your life again- I learned to love mine. You showed me how beautiful the world can be. You helped more than any book ever could have. I know now that even the simplest of things can bring me so much happiness, especially when I’m with the right person.” Kurt found honesty tumbling out of his mouth of its own accord. “I was supposed to teach you, but I think we both ended up helping each other instead.”

Blaine reached one hand up and wiped away tears that had started to spill over.

“And I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but you helped me to fall in love. Not just with life. But with you.” Kurt felt the immense weight of his confession lift off his back and float away, the truth of the words expanding out like a bubble that alleviated the pressure in his chest. Now Blaine knew. “I don’t care if it’s reciprocated or not. That’s not the point. The point is that you need to understand how loved you are. You need to see the way you brighten up the lives of people around you. I love you, Blaine. Please don’t jump.”

Kurt felt drained after all his declarations. He was shivering in the cold air now, his cheeks frigid as his tears cooled on contact with the air. Trembling, he reached up and covered his face with his hands, breathing shakily and waiting for Blaine to speak.

“Look at me.” Blaine said at last, voice tremulous and full of emotion.

Kurt couldn’t do it.

“Look at me, Kurt.” Blaine repeated.

Very slowly, Kurt let his hands drag down across his face and drop to his side. Blaine had a smile on his face, and he was suddenly confused. Why was this amusing? What part of this could possibly be interpreted as a _joke?_

“What side of the bridge am I on?” Blaine said gently, that fond smile still fixed to his face, looking calm, like he was the one thinking rationally, and Kurt was acting insane.

Kurt’s gaze dropped down.

His mind flicked back to when he had first seen Blaine. He’d been sure that he was standing on the other side of the bridge, ready to jump. But Blaine’s feet were firmly planted on the concrete, not hanging over the edge. He wasn’t clinging to the other side.

He had simply been leaning on the railings, looking out at the view.

Which meant he wasn’t about to jump.

“Oh fuck.” Kurt whispered.

“Come here.” Blaine laughed, holding out his hands.

Kurt took a step backward, one hand over his mouth, beyond embarrassed.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I thought- Rachel said- Sebastian told me- and I was sure- I don’t-”

Blaine stepped toward him and reached out again, this time taking Kurt’s hands in his.

“I told Sebastian it probably wasn’t going to work out between us.”

“You what? Why would you say that?”

“Because I meant it. I thought about it and I realized that our relationship wasn’t what I wanted. Not in the long term. Neither of us really wanted the same things and- and it was fun while it lasted but we both agreed we could probably never go back.” Blaine explained. “And Sebastian said that he was moved by my attempts to win him back, but he thinks that I’m right. He was just feeling nostalgic over what we used to be; the old us. But we could never be a couple again. We’re over.”

Kurt was shivering, still cold and very much in shock. Blaine pulled him a little closer.

“Then, after we decided not to get back together, Sebastian asked me if it was ‘because of that other guy’ and I confessed that that was definitely a part of it.”

“What other guy?” Kurt asked, feeling like he was totally losing track of the conversation.

Blaine laughed.

“This isn’t funny.” Kurt huffed. “I have no idea what’s going on. Seconds ago I thought you were going to jump off this bridge because you didn’t have Sebastian, and now you’re saying you don’t want Sebastian because of some other guy you’ve never even mentioned before now.”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Blaine said seriously.

“I can’t even believe I said all those things to you. I should have just _looked_ at youbefore I-”

“Did you mean all those things?” Blaine interrupted.

“Of course I did.” Kurt cringed. “I wouldn’t have said them if I didn’t mean them.”

“I’m glad you said them then.”

“Well I’m not. I can’t believe how embarrassing I am. I didn’t even-”

“Kurt,” Blaine interrupted again. “You do know that _you’re_ the guy I was talking about?”

Kurt froze. He stared at Blaine.

“I guess I must have worked out how I felt about you at some point, but I kind of feel like I’ve always known.” Blaine flushed now, ducking his head. “I don’t love _Sebastian_ that much. Whether I’m with him or not isn’t going to determine whether I live or die. The person I wasn’t happy with was myself. But as I worked through things with you, and I started to like myself again, I also started to notice that I felt more deeply for you than I’d ever expected to feel. All the things we did for Sebastian, I only enjoyed them because I was doing it with _you._ The more time we spent together, the less I cared about him. The more I just wanted to make you smile.”

He took a deep breath. His eyes met Kurt’s again.

“Kurt,” He whispered. “I love you.”

He reached both hands up and tucked them under Kurt’s jaw, cradling his face, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“I chose to love you fearlessly, and I’ll probably love you forever.” He said.

Kurt’s eyes flickered down to his lips, and then back up. He was still stunned.

“You should maybe say something soon.” Blaine laughed nervously.

“Sorry.” Kurt whispered. “I’m just… give me a moment.”

Blaine smiled.

“When I woke up this morning and you were gone, I thought you had changed your mind.” He explained.

“No,” Kurt said quickly. “No, I-”

“And when you came back to the room and you had been crying, I thought you regretted everything. I didn’t know you’d been to see Dave. I decided I’d better say that it was a mistake first. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to spare my feelings.”

“You’re an idiot.” Kurt breathed, eyes fixed on Blaine’s lips. Blaine smiled. “But we should definitely kiss now.”

So they did. It was short and sweet and perfect, and Blaine smiled against Kurt’s lips when they pulled away.

“I have a few conditions.” Kurt said gently.

“I’m listening.”

“I know you still have a long way to go, and I will keep helping you as much as I can. But I’m not a therapist, and nor are you. If we’re going to do this, we both have to start seeing someone.”

“I agree.” Blaine said instantly. “I actually came up here to think about how far I’ve come. I feel like a different person than the one who stood here two weeks ago. I’m not going to turn into him again if I can help it. I’m ready to work on me. I’m ready to tackle life full on again.”

“I look forward to tackling it with you.” Kurt said.

Suddenly, Blaine gasped. He dug around in the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a wad of tissue paper. As he unfolded it, Kurt was his mother’s broach inside.

“We found this in the car this morning.” Blaine explained, taking it out and pressing it into Kurt’s palm.

“Thank you.” Kurt whispered, voice choked with relief. He held it very tightly in his hand for a moment, and then reached out for the front of Blaine’s suit. “May I?”

Blaine nodded, and watched with awed eyes as Kurt pinned the broach onto his lapel. Kurt felt so honored that his mother got to be a part of one of the most important moment of his life. He could almost feel her presence, smiling down at the two of them.

“I love you.” Blaine said, like he could never get enough of the words.

“I love you too.”

Under the streetlights, with the water running beneath their feet, and the wind pulling gently at their hair, the two men kissed each other until they were breathless.

...

 


End file.
